Miss 

on  FIT  OF 
Frances  M. 

Molera 

THE 

POETICAL  WORKS 

OF 

FRANCES  RIDLEY  HAVERGAL. 


ASTLEY  CHURCH,  THE  RECTORY,   AND  CHURCHYARD 
The  Early  Home  and  Resting  Place  ofF.R.H.     The  Tomb  is  beneath  the  spreading  fir  tree 


NEW  YORK 
E.   P.   BUTTON  &   COMPANY 

31  WEST  TWENTY-THIRD  STREET 
1888 


COPYRIGHT, 

1885, 
BY  E.  P.  BUTTON  &  CO 


PRESS  OF  J    J.   LITTLE  &  CO., 
NOS.    10  TO   20  ASTOR   PLACE,   NEW   YORK. 


PREFATORY    NOTE. 


IT  is  in  answer  to  many  requests  that 
the  various  poems,  hymns,  and  songs  of 
Frances  Ridley  Havergal  are  comprised 
in  this  edition.  It  will  be  obvious,  there 
was  some  difficulty  in  selecting  the  order 
of  their  sequence.  We  doubt  not  that 
the  dear  author's  own  arrangement  in 
'  Ministry  of  Song/  '  Under  the  Surface/ 
and  '  Loyal  Responses/  will  be  generally 
preferred,  and  consequently  they  remain 
intact.  To  group  successfully  poetic  as- 
pirations of  such  varied  circumstances  and 
ideas,  ranging  from  the  sweet  simplicities 
of  her  songs  for  the  little  ones,  to  those 
higher  soarings  which  seem  to  culminate 
in  '  The  Thoughts  of  God/  was  indeed  a 
problem.  And  it  is  due  to  my  dear 
sister's  memory  to  state  distinctly  that  she 
never  contemplated  the  publication  of 
many  impromptu  verses,  written  to  grati- 
fy young  friends,  or  in  the  utterance  of 
rapid  imaginings.  When  F.  R.  H.  was 
arranging  a  selection  for  the  first  illustra- 
ted volume,  'Life  Mosaic/  she  submitted 
her  poems  to  her  poet  friend,  the  Rev.  R. 
Wilton,  earnestly  soliciting  him  to  prune 
away  with  unsparing  keenness  '  any  of  my 
weaker  poems/  And  we  are  aware  that 


other  poet  critics  would  prefer  only  the 
finer  chords  to  be  lasting  echoes  of 
F.  R.  H. 

But  there  are  many,  oh,  so  many,  who 
lovingly  treasure  even  the  spray  of  her 
pen,  as  well  as  the  nobler  waves  of 
thought,  and  so  we  open  and  unseal  all 
the  manuscripts  in  her  study  drawers. 
For  some  of  her  simpler  utterances  seem 
to  go  at  once  to  the  heart  of  those  in  hum- 
bler life,  and  their  intellect  can  better 
grasp  such  thoughts  than  the  loftier  flights 
of  her  imagination.  By  them  it  is  not  as  a 
feast  of  intellect,  but  as  heart  cheer  for 
home  sorrows,  that  F.  R.  H/s  lowliest 
lays  are  prized. 

The  arrangement  is  subjective,  not  chro- 
nological. But  in  the  Index  will  be  found 
the  dates  and  places  of  her  poems ;  we 
are  aware  this  is  unusual,  but  it  would 
seem  as  if  her  sunny  presence  and  spring- 
ing footsteps  may  thus  still  linger  in  our 
midst.  It  is  with  pleasure  that  I  entrust 
to  my  dear  niece,  Frances  Anna  Shaw, 
the  entire  arrangement  and  revision  of 
this  complete  and  final  edition.  It  was 
no  slight  labor  to  prepare  the  various 
dates  and  subdivide  the  numerous  sub- 


6 


PREFATORY   NOTE. 


jects  into  their  present  order.  In  shatter- 
ed health,  I  thankfully  accept  my  niece's 
skilful  labor.  And  we  would  bring  these 
pages  with  loyal  loving  hand  to  the  very 
feet  of  F.  R.  H.'s  Master  and  King,  re- 
echoing words,  which  seem  to  float  down 
from  the  golden  heights  where  now  my 
sister  stands  amid  the  upper  choir,  joining 
the  service  of  high  praise  in  the  'Eternal 
Land  : ' 

*  I  have  no  words  to  bring 
Worthy  of  Thee,  my  King, 
And  yet  one  anthem  in  Thy  praise 
I  long,  I  long  to  raise.' 

'  One  anthem  '  ?  Have  they  not  been 
countless?  has  not  her  silver  refrain 
echoed  and  re-echoed  till  many  an  isola- 
ted and  trembling  one  has  taken  up  in  a 
gathering  and  rejoicing  chorus,  'Unto 
Him  that  loved  us,  and  washed  us  from 
our  sins  in  His  own  blood,  and  hath  made 
us  kings  and  priests  unto  God  and  His  Fa- 
ther ;  to  Him  be  glory  and  dominion  for 
ever  and  ever.  Amen. ' 


And  does  not  F.  R.  H.  's  earliest  prelude 
become  a  fitting  closing  chord  to  her  life 
and  poems, — 

«  Amid  the  broken  waters  of  our  ever-restless 
thought, 

Oh  be  my  verse  an  answering  gleam  from  high- 
er radiance  caught  ; 

That  when  through  dark  o'erarching  boughs  of 
sorrow,  doubt,  and  sin, 

The  glorious  Star  of  Bethlehem  upon  the  flood 
looks  in, 

Its  tiny  trembling  ray  may  bid  ome  downcast 
vision  turn 

To  that  enkinding  Light,  for  which  all  earthly 
shadows  yearn. 

Oh  be  my  verse  a  hidden  stream,  which  silently 
may  flow 

Where  drooping  leaf  and  thirsty  flower  in  lonely 
valleys  grow  : 

And  often  by  its  shady  course  to  pilgrim  hearts 
be  brought 

The  quiet  and  refreshment  of  an  upward-point- 
ing thought  ; 

Till,  blending  with  the  broad  bright  stream  of 
sanctified  endeavor, 

God's  glory  be  its  ocean  home,  the  end  it  seek- 
eth  ever.' 

MARIA  V.   G.   HAVERGAL. 


INDEX. 


TITLE. 
Prelude,  . 

The  Ministry  of  Song, 
Our  Hidden  Leaves, 
Threefold  Praise,      . 
Not  Yet,  . 
Thanksgiving, 
Life-Crystals,   . 
Not  Your  Own, 
Wounded, 
Whose  I  am,     . 
Whom  I  Serve, 
Peace, 

God's  Message, 
A  Great  Mystery,     . 
Be  not  Weary, 
The  Great  Teacher, 
Auntie's  Lessons, 
Rest, 

One  Question,  Many  Answers, 
Content,  . 
Misunderstood, 
Sunbeams  in  the  Wood, 
The  Star  Shower,     . 
Treasure  Trove, 
Coming  Summer, 
September,       .... 
Early  Faith,     .... 
Our  Father,      .... 
Disappointment, 
The  Song  Chalice,    . 
Silence  in  Love,        .         .         . 
Light  and  Shade, 
No  Thorn  without  a  Rose, 
Yesterday,  To-Day,  and  for  Ever, 
Christ's  Recall, 
Faith's  Question, 
*  I  did  this  for  Thee,' 
Isaiah  xxxiii.  17,       .         .         ; 
God  the  Provider,     . 
Wait  patiently  for  Him,    . 
This  Same  Jesus, 
Mary's  Birthday, 
Daily  Strength, 
The  Right  Way,       . 
Thy  Will  be  Done,  . 
The  Things  which  are  Behind, 
« Now  I  See,'    .... 
Everlasting  Love,     . 
'Master,  say  on,' 


DATE. 

Dec.  26,  1859, 
Feb.  27,  1867, 
Feb.  13,  1867, 
Feb.  26,  1867, 

1860, 

March,  1866, 
March,  1868, 
Jan.  21,  1867, 

1867, 

Dec.,  1865, 
Dec.,  1865, 
Jan.  7,  1867, 
Feb.  21,  1867, 
Dec.  io,  1866, 
Nov.  1865, 
August,  1867, 
Nov.  1865, 
Oct.  28,  1865, 
April,  1857, 
"an.  8,  1867, 
an.  18,  1867, 
uly  12,  1859, 
"ov.  14,  1866, 
May,  1867, 

1859, 

1868, 

Jan.  1860, 
Feb.  25,  1897, 
Nov.  20,  1868, 
Jan.  7,  1869, 
Jan.  17,  1869, 

1866, 

1866, 

1868, 

1860, 

1860, 

Jan.  10,1858, 
Feb.  6,  1860, 
Jan.  1866, 
Oct.  1868, 
Dec.  11,  1864, 
July,  1850, 
Jan.  I,  1859, 
Oct.  1866, 
July,  1866, 

1860, 

March,  1866, 
Sept.  5,  1868, 
May,  1867, 


WHERE  WRITTEN. 

Oakhampton,  . 
Do. 
Do. 


Shareshill, 


Shareshill, 
Oakhampton, 

Do/ 

Shareshill, 
Morecambe  Bay, 
Oakhampton, 

Do. 


Shareshill, 
Do.    . 

Oakhampton, 
Do. 


Winterdyne, 

Oakhampton, 

Winterdyne, 

Leamington, 

Do. 


PAGE 

IS 
15 
17 

18 

22 
22 
23 
24 

26 
26 


29 
29 
30 
31 
31 
33 
34 
35 
35 
37 


39 
39 
41 
43 
43 
43 
44 


Germany, 
Worcester, 


Oakhampton, 
Do. 


Worcester, 

Oakhampton, 

Luccombe, 


Winterdyne, 
Weston-super-Mare, 


45 


49 
49 
50 
51 

51 
52 
53 
54 
54 
54 
55 


INDEX. 


TITLE. 
Remote  Results,       .        .         . 
On  the  Last  Leaf,     . 
How  should  they  know  me,      , 
Making  Poetry, 

DATE. 

.    March,  1867, 
.     Nov.  23,  1865, 
.    July,  1868, 
.     Jan.  1868, 

WHERE  WRITTEN. 

Oakhampton, 
Scotland, 

Celbridge, 

Leamington, 
Lynton, 
Worcester, 
Leamington,    . 
Oakhampton, 
Lynton, 

PAGE 

5^ 
56 

58 

59 
61 
66 
66 
66 
68 
68 
69 
70 
73 
75 
76 

The  Cascade,  .... 
Constant  De  V  , 
Fairy  Homes,  . 
More  Music, 
Travelling  Thoughts, 
New  Year's  Wishes, 
Bonnie  Wee  Eric, 
My  Sweet  Woodruff, 
Our  Gem  Wreath,     . 

,    July,  1856, 
Feb.  1859, 
April,  1854, 
1861, 
Jan.  26,  1866, 
March,  1858, 
Jan.  1869, 
July  13,  1866, 
Aug.  1  8,  1858, 
April  i,  1868 

Faith  and  Reason, 
Lynton,   . 
A  Birthday  Greeting, 

March,  1859, 
July  19,  1866, 

A  Lull  in  Life,          .         .         . 
Adoration,        .... 

«  I  Leave  it  all  with  Thee,' 
Matt.  xiv.  23,  . 
Matt.  xxvi.  30, 
'Leaving  us  an  Example,' 
Our  English  Sabbaths, 

.     Sept.  11,  1868, 
.     Dec.  31,  1866, 

EARLY   POEI 

1851, 

.      1854, 

Feb.  1855, 
June,  1855, 
.        1839, 

Winterdyne,     . 
Shareshill,       . 

tfS. 

77 
78 

80 

81 

82 

Bath, 

8? 

Clouds  in  Prospect, 

.     Feb.  1854, 

'      § 

86 

i8c8. 

86 

Sunset,     ....                      July  31,  1851, 
The  Spirit's  Longings,      .                       May  13,  1855, 
The  Old  and  New  Earth,                      Jan.  6,  1854, 
Astley  Bells,     .         .         .                      Nov.  8,  1857, 
«  Pray  for  Me,'          .         .                               1859, 
On    the    Death    of  Captain    Allan 
Gardiner,      .         .         .                               1852, 
'Thank  God,'           .         .                              1855, 
The  Maidens  of  England  to  H.  R 
H.  Princess  Royal,        .         .                      1858, 
'No,  not  a  Star,'      ....            i8co. 

8? 

Oakhampton, 

:  | 

88 

Oakhampton, 

.      89 
.      90 

Worcester, 

03 

Q<1 

The  Queen  of  the  Sea,     . 
Two  Points  of  View,         .    .  ... 
Morning  Song,          .         .         . 
Evening  Song,          .         . 
Peace,      .         .        . 

MISCELLANEC 

.     March,  1855, 
.    July  23,  1855, 
.    June,  1857, 
.    June,  1857, 

)US. 

Langland  Bay, 
Leamington,    . 

'          9I 
.          96 

.          96 
.          96 

•      97 

Fragments,      .         . 
The  Wandering  Sunbeam, 
May  Day,         ... 

.     Nov.  1872, 
1855, 

Areley  Wood, 

.       100 
100 

The  Shower,    .         •  .      . 
Tiny  Tokens,           , 
April,       
The  Song  of  a  Summer  Stream, 
An  Autumn  Holiday 

.     May,  1857, 
.     Sept.  1874, 

-     Feb.  9   1877, 
.     Feb.  1  8,  1879, 
.     Sept.  1877, 

Ormont  Dessous,      .         .         .     101 
Leamington,    ....     102 
Caswell  Bay,  .         ...         .103 
The  Highlands,  Herefordshire,     104 

INDEX. 


TITLE. 

The  Song  of  Love,  . 
The  Awakening, 
The  Poet's  Zenith, 
Mischief  Making,     . 
The  Lorely,      . 
For  Denmark,  ho! 
My  Singing  Lesson, 
The  Choir  of  Llangryffyth, 
The  Turned  Lesson, 
Leaning  over  the  Waterfall, 
The  Seed  of  a  Song, 
Finis 


DATE. 

Nov.  1872, 


Nov.  1 8,  1877, 
Dec.  1853, 
1864, 

July  22,  1872, 
March  28,  1876, 
May,  1874, 
Jan.  21,  1878, 
July  23,  1858, 


WHERE  WRITTEN. 
Leamington,    . 

PAGE 

.     104 

Leamington,    . 
Cople,     .        .         .    __.__ 

•     105 
.     107 

•  13 

.     108 

Llanberris, 
Leamington,    . 

.     109 
.     in 

Leamington,    . 

.       112 

in 

CHARADES   AND    ENIGMAS. 
ANSWERS  TO   ENIGMAS. 


No.    I.  Needles.       .         .         .         .         .114 

2.  Lines. 114 

3.  Table 115 

4.  Trunk 115 

5.  Sere,  Seir,  seer,  sear(ed).      .         .     115 

6.  Malice 116 

7.  Scrape,  crape,  ape.      .         .         .116 

8.  Bacon, 116 

9.  Lava.  .         .         .         .         'IJ7 

10.  Ball.  117 

n.  Box.  117 


No.  12.  Spring 118 

13.  Lock. 118 

14.  Pole. 119 

15.  Ice 120 

16.  Gas 120 

17.  Shadow 121 

18.  Arch. 121 

19.  Melodies 121 

20.  A  Riddle 122 

21.  Wheels 122 


ANSWERS   TO   CHARADES. 


No.    i.  Cutlass 122 

2.  Orion.  .  ...  123 

3.  Carpet 123 

4.  Ivanhoe 123 

5.  Iceland 123 

6.  Hemlock 124 

7.  Wordsworth 124 

8.  Harebell 124 

9.  Parsonage 125 


No.  10.   Palmerston.          ....  125 

11.  Larkspur.  .         .         .         .  125 

12.  Sunday.       .         .         .        .         .  125 

13.  Nightingale 126 

14.  Bargain 126 

Gentleman.          ....  126 

Rampart.     .....  126 

17.  Dande(y)lion 127 

18  Gladstone 127 


II: 


CHILDREN'S   CHORDS. 


TITLE. 

Sunday  Bells,  . 
Flowers, 
Evening  Prayer, 
Stars,        .... 
My  Little  Tree, 
Thy  Kingdom  Come, 
The  Moon, 
Jessie's  Friend, 
The  Bower,      . 

Trust 

The  Dying  Sister,    . 
The  Angels'  Song, 
Who  will  take  Care  of  Me? 
Something  to  Do,     . 


DATE. 
Oct.  1 8,  1869, 

1 6,  " 

17,  <« 

18,  « 

22,       " 

22, 
21, 

IQ, 

21, 
23, 
23, 
24, 

Jan.   I,  1873, 
Feb.  12,  1877, 


WHERE    WRITTEN. 


PAGE. 


127 
127 
128 
128 
I29 
I29 
I29 
130 
I30 
130 
130 


132 


10 


INDEX. 


TITLE. 
Loving  Messages,     .... 
F.  R.    H.'s  Thanks  to  her  Bible- 
Class        ...... 

DATE. 
1878, 

March  23,  1858, 
1871, 
1861, 
Dec.  1856, 
1856, 
1856, 

1855, 
1872, 
Oct.  1875, 
May,  1876, 
1876, 
Dec.  15,  1866, 
Dec.  1868, 
Aug.  1869, 

July  27,  1874, 

SONGS. 

1873, 

March,  1871, 

1873, 
Sept.  1874, 
1872, 
May  13,  1855, 
1859, 
l859, 
Nov.  26,  1872, 
Do. 
Do 
1865, 
Jan.  12,  1869, 

WHERE  WRITTEN. 

PAGE 

T-JC 

F.  R.  H's  Thanks  to  C.  Overton,     . 
Inscription  in  'Life's  Morning,' 
Little  Nora  
'  Come  over  and  help  us, 
The  English  Child's  Reply,      . 
The  Disappointed  Carol  Singers, 
The  Happiest  Christmas  Day, 
Coming  into  the  Shade,   .         • 
Begin  at  Once,          .... 
'  That's  not  the  Way  at  Sea,'  . 
Welcome  to  Winterdyne, 
To  Jericho  and  Back, 
My  Nest,          
Ethelbert's  «  Coming   Home  in  the 
Dark  »  

.           . 

:   .  .336 

,    n6 

T^o 

. 

•       •    138 

Perry  Barr,      . 
Upton  Bishop, 

•    J39 
.    140 

Leamington,    . 
Oakhampton,  .         . 
Winterdyne, 
Do.  . 

.    141 
.    142 
.    142 

Switzerland,     . 

.    147 

.    147 
-    148 

Scotland's  Welcome  to  H.   R.  H. 
Princess  Louise,    .... 

For  Charity,    
The  Devonshire  Yeoman's  Song, 
The  Dawn  of  May,  .... 
The  Tyrolese  Spring  Song, 
My  Messengers,        .... 
God  keep  Thee         .... 
Rose  of  Roses,          .... 
Hast  Thou  a  Thought  ?    . 

Ormont  Dessous, 

.    149 

Oakhampton,  . 

.    150 

Leamington, 
Do'. 
Leamington, 
Leamington, 

I5i 
152 
152 
152 
152 
153 
153 

A  Wife's  Letter,       .... 

The  Husband's  Reply,     . 
Only  for  One,           .... 
One  for  the  Other,    .... 
Thinking  together,  or  Gravitation,  . 
There  is  Music  by  the  River,    . 
«  The  Shining  Light,' 

Jan.  18,  1869, 
Nov.  1870, 
1869, 
1874, 
July,  1870, 
Sept.  15,  1876, 
Nov.  1874, 

HYMNS. 

1849, 
1849, 
1850, 
1856, 

NOV.  22,   1857, 
I858, 

1872, 
1872, 
1873, 

Good  Friday,  1877, 
Dec.  21,  1873, 
Do. 

Pension  Wengen,     . 
Leamington,    . 

•     155 
.        .     156 

.     157 

Twilight  Voices,      .... 
Prayer  before  Church,     .         .        . 

'He  that  Overcometh,  '    . 
A  Song  of  Welcome, 
'The  Lord  is  Gracious,'  . 
'The    Spirit    proceeding    from   the 
Father  '                 . 

Worcester, 

•     157 

.          .      I58 
K8 

ic8 

New  Year  Hymn,    . 
Hymn  for  Ireland,    . 
Church  Missionary  Jubilee  Hymn, 
Thy  Father  waits  for  Thee,      . 
Will  Vr.ii  nnt  r.nme? 

.         ICQ 

Leamington,    . 
Winterdvne,    . 
Do. 

:    :  Is 

.     160 
161 

INDEX. 


II 


TITLE. 
What  will  You  do  without  Hi 
'  Forgiven  —  even  until  Now,' 
He  hath  done  it  ! 

DATE.                           WHERE  WRITTEN, 
m  ?      .     April  9,  1876,                The  Leasowes, 
.     Sept.  15,  1878,               Plymouth, 

PAGE 

.     161 

.      163 

.     Dec.  3,  1878,                 Caswell  Bay,  . 
.     Dec.  5,  1878,                        Do. 

.  X 

.   164 

.    164 

.  164 

'65 
165 

\66 
167 
167 
168 

170 
170 
170 

I7i 
171 
172 

.    Feb.  12,  1879,                       Do.           .        .  —  .— 

A  Merrie  Christmas, 
A  Happy  Christmas, 
Our  Saviour  Christ  was  born, 
Christmas  Gifts, 
Christmas  Mottoes,  . 
Christmas  Gifts, 
Christmas  Sunshine, 
Titles  of  Christ, 

CHRISTMAS   VERSES. 

.     Oct.  1875,                      Whitby,  . 
.     Mav,  1877,                     Winterdyne, 
.     May,  1877,                             Do. 
.     May,  1877,                             Do. 
1877, 

.     Dec.  25,  1878, 
1877,                                .. 

A  Happy  New  Year  to  You, 
Another  Year, 
Faithful  Promises,    . 
New  Year's  Wishes, 
A  Happy  New  Year, 
New  Year  Mottoes, 

NEW  YEAR   VERSES. 

1874,                         Winterdyne, 

1874, 
Jan.  3,  1873, 
Sept.  1874,                     Ormont  Dessous, 
1874,                         Winterdyne, 
1876-1879, 

Easter  Echoes, 


EASTER   ECHOES. 

.     Sept.  1876,  Lauterbrunnen, 

BIRTHDAY   POEMS. 


A  Waking  Thought, 
Life  Mosaic,     . 
To  Helga, 
Memorial  Names,     . 
Our  Red-Letter  Days, 
Luke  ix.  13,     . 


SONNETS. 

1860, 

April  I,  1876, 
Sept.  19,  1876, 
May  13,  1877, 
Do. 


Leamington, 

Champery, 

Winterdyne, 

Do. 


IN   MEMORIAM. 


My  Mother's  Request,      .        .         .  Feb.  6,  1854, 

May  Dirge, 1854, 

To  F.  M.  G.  on  her  Brother's  Death,  1854, 

Evelyn, April  6,  1868, 


175 


Acrostic:  Cecilia  Havergal, 
Acrostic:  Edith  Havergal, 
Acrostic  for  E.  P.  S., 
Mizpah  Messages,     . 
Birthday  Mottoes,    . 
To  M.  V.  G.  H.  on  her  Birthd 
M.  L.  C's  Birthday  Crown, 
To  J.  H.  C.,    . 
For  E.  Clay's  Birthday,  . 
Coming  of  Age,        .         . 
To  the  Rev.  C.  B.  Snepp, 

ay, 

1875, 
1875, 
1863, 
1878, 
1877-1878, 
Nov.  1877, 
July  n,  1859,                Okahampton, 
Nov.  27,  1856, 
Feb.  1863, 
Sept.  26,  1865,              Celbridge, 
Sept.  1871,    "                Perry  Barr, 
April,  1873,                            Do. 

I76 
'76 
'76 
176 
177 
178 
178 
179 
179 
180 
180 
181 

Leamington, 


182 
182 
182 
183 
183 
'83 


184 


187 


12 


INDEX. 


TITLE. 

DATE. 

WHERE  WRITTEN. 

PAGE 

Starlight  through  the  Shadows, 

1877, 

.     180 

In  Loyal  and  Loving  Remembrance 

of  H.  R.  H.  Princess  Alice,  . 

Dec.  23,  1878, 

Caswell  Bay,  . 

.     190 

UNDER  THE   SURFACE. 

Prelude,  ...... 
Under  the  Surface,  .         .        . 
Autobiography,        .... 

June  30,  1872, 
Dec.  13,  1869, 
May,  1869, 

Leamington,     .         . 
Do.            ... 

.    191 
.    192 

.     IQ2 

Compensation,          .... 

Oct.  23,  1873, 

.     104 

The  Moonlight  Sonata,    . 
The  Infinity  of  God, 
The  Spirituality  of  God,  . 

March,  1869, 
1872, 
1872, 

Leamington,     . 
Perry  Barr, 
Do.            ... 

*y+ 
.     196 
•     203 
*     2O1 

The  Eternity  of  God, 

Feb.  u,  1872, 

Do.    . 

The  Sovereignty  of  God, 

1872, 

Do  

The  Essential  Blessedness  of  God, 

Feb.  1872, 

Do  

.     2(X 

Thine  is  the  Power, 

May  14,  1872, 

Winter  dyne,    . 

.     2OIJ 

The  One  Reality,     .... 
To  Thee,          ....*. 

Jan.  i,  1870, 
June,  1870, 
Sept.  26,  1870, 

Leamington,     . 

.     206 
.     207 
.     207 

I  could  not  do  without  Thee,   . 

May  7,  1873, 

.     208 

Jesus  only,        

Dec.  4,  1870, 

Leamington,    . 

.     208 

Is  it  for  me  ?    

Nov.  18,  1871, 

Perry  Barr,      . 

.     208 

Hidden  in  Light,      .... 

July  6,  1872, 

Harlech, 

.     209 

He  is  Thy  Lord,      .... 

Jan.  5,  1873, 

.     209 

Our  King,         

Nov.  1870, 

. 

.     211 

Ascension  Song,       .... 

Dec.  1871, 

.     211 

Advent  Song,  

Nov.  1  6,  1873, 

Winterdyne,      . 

.     212 

Have  you  not  a  Word,     . 

Nov.  1871, 

Perry  Barr, 

.     213 

A  Worker's  Prayer  .... 

April  28,  1872, 

Winterdyne, 

.     214 

Our  Commission,      .         .        . 

March,  1869, 

Leamington,     . 

.     215 

Singing  for  Jesus,     .... 
A  Silence  and  a  Song, 

June  12,  1872, 
March  16,  1871, 

Winterdyne,     . 
Leeds,      .... 

.    216 
.    216 

The  Coming  of  the  Healer,      . 
Another  for  Christ,  .... 

Oct.  3,  IJ873, 
June  30,  1872, 

Leamington,     . 

.     217 

.    218 

'  How  Wonderful  !  '  . 

Aug.  30,  1873, 

Oakhampton,  . 

.     219 

Valiant  for  the  Truth,       . 

Sept.  23,  1872, 

Perry  Barr, 

A  Plea  for  the  Little  Ones, 

April  2,  1872, 

. 

.     221 

Tell  it  Out,      

April  21,  1872, 

Winterdyne,     . 

.     222 

Sisters,      

April  4,  1873, 

...         .         .         . 

.     223 

1873, 

.... 

.     224 

The  Lull  of  Eternity,       . 
The  Showers,  

July  19,  1872, 
Feb.  19,  1872, 

The  Pass  of  Llanberris,    . 

.      22| 
.     226 

Everlasting  Blessings, 

Aug.  12,  1871, 

Do  

.     232 

Accepted,         ..... 

Sept.  3,  1870, 

Hastings, 

•     233 

Fresh  Springs,          .... 

Aug.  1870, 

•     233 

Faithful  Promises,    .... 

Jan.  4,  1873, 

. 

•     233 

The  Faithful  Comforter,  . 

Aug.  n,  1872, 

Perry  Barr, 

•     234 

Under  His  Shadow,          .         . 

Nov.  27,  1870, 

...         .         •         . 

'     234 

Covenant  Blessings, 

1871, 

•     235 

The  Triune  Presence, 

Sept.  1871, 

Perry  Barr, 

•     235 

Now  and  Afterward,         .         . 

Jan.  4,  1870, 

Leamington,     . 

.     236 

Tempted  and  Tried, 

March  2,  1873, 

Perry  Barr, 

.     236 

Sept.  14,  1869, 

•     237 

Listening  in  Darkness,     .        • 
E  veningf  Tears,         .... 
Peaceable  Fruit,       .... 

June  10,  1869, 
June  19,  1869, 
May,  1872, 

Interlachen,      . 
Interlachen, 
Winterdyne,      . 

•     237 
.     238 
.     238 

Right!     

Tune  1  8,  1872, 

Leamington,     . 

•     239 

The  Col  de  Balm, 

Aug.  u,  1869, 

London,    .... 

.     242 

•Eye  hath  not  Seen,' 

Feb.  20,  1869, 

Leamington,     . 

•     243 

INDEX. 


TITLE. 

Chosen  in  Christ, 
Called,     . 
Justified, 
Sanctified, 
Joined  to  Christ, 
Presented  Faultless, 
Glorified, 
The  Message  of  an  ^Eolian 
Baby's  Turn,  . 
The  Children's  Triumph, 
The  First  Smile, 
The  Sunday  Book, 

DATE. 
.     April  6,  1871, 
.         .           1872, 
.     May,  1871, 

•     -       1873,    : 

.     May,  1871, 
.     May,  1871, 
.     Oct.  22,  1871, 
Harp,    .     Nov.  1869, 
.     Sept.  1869, 
.     March  29,  1873, 
.     Feb.  17,  1871, 
.     Oct.  5,  1872, 
.     Nov.  1872, 

WHERE   WRITTEN.                               I 

AGE 

244 
245 
245 
245 
246 
246 
247 
247 
252 
253 
253 
254 
254 
255 
255 
256 

257 

25  § 
258 

259 

259 

260 
260 
266 
267 

268 
270 
271 
272 
274 

275 

i 
§ 

281 
282 
282 
283 
284 
284 
285 
286 
287 
287 
288 
289 
289 
290 
291 
291 
291 
292 

Do.    .          .         .         .         . 
Do  

Perry  Barr,       . 
Do  
Do  

Leamington,     .... 
Worcester,        .... 

Perry  Barr,       .... 
Oakhampton, 

Perry  Barr,       .... 

'It  is  well  with  the  Child,' 
At  Home  to-Night,  . 
Two  Ring?, 
Bells  across  the  Snow, 
Singing  at  Sunset,    . 
Heather  Lintic, 
Sunbeam  and  Dewdrop,   . 

.     Dec.  n,  1870, 
.     Dec.  19,  1870, 
1870, 
.        .          1870, 
.     May  21,  1872, 
.    Jan.  12,  1870, 
.     Nov.  1870, 
.     March,  1869, 

Leamington,    .... 
Perry  Barr,      .... 

Oakhampton,  .... 
Winterdyne,     .... 
Leamington,     .... 

She  Waits  for  Me,    . 
The  Mountain  Maidens,    . 
A  Seeing  Heart, 
July  on  the  Mountains,     . 
My  Window,    . 

.     Mar.  6,  1873, 
.    July,  1873, 
.     May  10,  1872, 

'.     Feb.  i,  1869, 

Switzerland,     .... 
Winterdyne,     .... 

Leamington,    . 

Winterdyne,    .... 
.  Harlech,           .... 

Winterdyne,     .... 
Leamington,    .... 

NSES. 

Areley  House, 
Leamington, 
Do. 
Do. 

Ormont  Dessous, 
Leamington, 
Do.  . 
Ormont  Dessous, 
Leamington,    . 
The  Highlands,  Herefordshire 
Ormont  Dessous, 

Ormont  Dessous, 
The  Leasowes,                    * 

Now  ! 
Light  at  Eventide,     . 
Yet  Speaketh, 
For  New  Year's  Day,  1874, 
Finis,        .... 

Consecration  Hymn, 
Set  Apart, 

.     •    .     Sept.  1869, 
.    July  12,  1872, 
.     Easter,  1872, 
.     Dec.  23,  1873, 
.    June  18,  1872, 

LOYAL   RESPO3 

.     Feb.  4,  1874, 
Feb.  24.-  1878. 

Secret  of  a  Happy  Day,    .                  .    Jan.  20,  1878, 
The  Unfailing  One,            .                  .    Jan.  19,  1878, 
On  the  Lord's  Side,           .                 .     Oct.  1877, 
True-hearted,  Whole-hearted,           .     Sept.  1874,^ 
By  Thy  Cross  and  Passion,                 .    Jan.  1877,' 
The  Opened  Fountain,      .                  .     March,  1878, 
The  Precious  Blood,         .                  •     Sept.  1874, 
I  remember  Thee,     ....     Dec.  9,1877, 

Trusting  Jesus, 
Looking  unto  Jesus, 
Shining, 

.     Sept.  1874, 
.         .            1876, 
.     Sept.  1874, 

Resting, 
Filling,      .... 
Increase  our  Faith, 
Nobody  knows  but  Jesus, 
He  is  thy  Life, 
Enough, 
All,           .... 
Only,        .... 
My  Master,       .         . 

.     June  II,  1876, 
.     May  5,  1876, 
.     Oct.  5,  1875, 
.     Nov.  1877, 
.    June  2,  1876, 
.     Sept.  1874, 
•         .         1874, 
.     Aug.  1877, 
July  1  6,  1876, 

Whitby              .... 

Leamington,    .... 

Ormont  Dessous,      .         .         . 

The  Highlands,  Herefordshire, 

Perfect  Peace, 

.     Nov.  3,  1874, 

Leamington,    .... 

INDEX. 


TITLE. 

DATE. 

.        .    June  30,  1876, 

WHERE   WRITTEN. 

Leamington, 
Whitby, 
Oakhampton, 
Leamington, 
Do.  . 

XTS. 

Newport,  .... 

PAGE 

293 
293 
294 

% 

296 

.  297 
.  299 

Trust  and  Distrust, 
Without  Carefulness, 
Thy  Reign, 

.     March  9,  1878, 
.     Sept  27,  1875, 
.     March  29,  1874, 

Tried,  Precious,  Sure, 
Just  when  Thou  wilt, 

.     Nov.  1876. 
.     Nov.  3,  1874, 

VERSES   ON   TE 

1877, 

A  Covenant,     .         .         . 
Only  for  Jesus, 
Chosen  Lessons, 
Hitherto  and  Henceforth, 
Rhymed     Mottoes     for 

.         .     July,  1876, 
.    July,  1877, 
.         .           1878, 

•         •           1877, 
Open  -Air 

.   300 

Advent  Thoughts, 

1877, 

.    301 

'  UNDER   HIS   SHADOW.' 


An  Interlude,  . 

Zenith,      . 

The  Thoughts  of  God,      . 
The  Ministry  of  Intercession,    , 

*  Free  to  Serve,' 
Coming  to  the  King, 
Reality,    . 

Far  More  Exceeding, 

*  The  Splendor  of  God's  Will,' 
The  Two  Paths, 

Sunday  Night, 

Precious  Things,       .         .         , 

'Afterwards,'   . 

*  Vessels  of  Mercy,' 
Seulement  pour  Toi, 
A  Song  in  the  Night, 

The  Voice  of  Many  Waters, 
The  Key  Found, 


Sept.  II,  1877, 

Do. 

Sept.  1874, 
Sept.  2,  1877, 
Jan.  21,  1876, 
Oct.  9,  1876, 
Oct.  14,  1875, 
.April,  1876, 
Sept.  1874, 
Jan.  3,  1878, 
Mar.  19,  1876, 
Sept.  1874, 
Oct.  4,  1875, 
Nov.  1878, 
July  23,  1876, 
Oct.  8,  1876, 
Jan.  18,  1878, 
Dec.  14,  1878, 


The  Highlands,  Herefordshire, 

Do 

Ormont  Dessous, 

The  Highlands,  Herefordshire, 

Leamington,      . 

Winterdyne,      . 

Whitby, 


Ormont  Dessous, 
Leamington, 

Do.  . 

Ormont  Dessous, 
Whitby,     . 
Caswell  Bay,      . 
Fins  Haut. 
Pension  Wengen, 
Leamington, 
Caswell  Bay,     . 


302 

302 

3H 
320 

323 
324 
325 
327 
329 
33° 
332 
332 
335 


340 


CLOSING   CHORDS. 

What  Thou  Wilt,      ....  Nov.  29,  1878, 

Hope, 1878, 

Fear  Not, 

The  Scripture  Cannot  be  Broken,      .  April,  1879, 

He  Suffered, March  6,  1879, 

Behold  your  King,    ....  Good  Friday,  1879, 

An  Easter  Prayer,        ....  Feb.  12,  1879, 

Easter  Dawn, Easter  Sunday,  1879, 

Unfinished  Fragments,      .         .         .  May,  1879, 
Most  Blessed  for  Ever,      .         .         .  1870, 


Caswell  Bay, 

Leeds,'  '     ! 
Caswell  Bay, 
Do.   . 
Do    . 

342 
342 
342 
343 

343 
•241 

Do.  . 

•244. 

Do.  . 
Do.  . 

344 

•3,4.1: 

34.5 

THE  MINISTRY  OF  SONG. 


PRELUDE. 

AMID  the  broken  waters  of  our  ever-restless 
thought, 

Oh  be  my  verse  an  answering  gleam  from 
higher  radiance  caught ; 

That   where    through    dark    o'erarching 
boughs  of  sorrow,  doubt,  and  sin, 

The  glorious  Star  of  Bethlehem  upon  the 
flood  looks  in, 

Its  tiny  trembling  ray  may  bid  some  down- 
cast vision  turn 

To  that   enkindling  Light,  for  which  all 
earthly  shadows  yearn. 

Oh  be  my  verse  a  hidden  stream,   which 
silently  may  flow 

Where  drooping  leaf  and  thirsty  flower  in 
lonely  valleys  grow  ; 

And  often  by  its  shady  course  to  pilgrim 
hearts  be  brought 

The  quiet  and  refreshment  of  an  upward- 
pointing  thought  ; 

Till,  blending  with  the  broad  bright  stream 
of  sanctified  endeavor, 

God's  glory  be  its  ocean  home,  the  end  it  | 
seeketh  ever. 


THE  MINISTRY  OF  SONG. 

IN  God's  great  field  of  labor 
All  work  is  not  the  same  ; 

He  hath  a  service  for  each  one 
Who  loves  His  holy  name. 


And  you,  to  whom  the  secrets 

Of  all  sweet  sounds  are  known, 
Rise  up  !  for  He  hath  called  you 

To  a  mission  of  your  own. 
And,  rightly  to  fulfil  it, 

His  grace  can  make  you  strong, 
Who  to  your  charge  hath  given 

The  Ministry  of  Song. 

Sing  to  the  little  children, 

And  they  will  listen  well  ; 
Sing  grand  and  holy  music, 

For  they  can  feel  its  spell. 
Tell  them  the  tale  of  Jephthah  ; 

Then  sing  them  what  he  said,  — 
'  Deeper  and  deeper  still, '  and  watch 

How  the  little  cheek  grows  red, 
And  the  little  breath  comes  quicker  : 

They  will  ne'er  forget  the  tale, 
Which  the  song  has  fastened  surely, 

As  with  a  golden  nail. 

I  remember,  late  one  evening, 

How  the  music  stopped,  for,  hark  ! 
Charlie's  nursery  door  was  open, 

He  was  calling  in  the  dark, — 
1  Oh  no  !  I  am  not  frightened, 

And  I  do  not  want  a  light  ; 
But  I  cannot  sleep  for  thinking 

Of  the  song  you  sang  last  night 
Something  about  a  "  valley," 

And  "make  rough  places  plain," 
And  "  Comfort  ye  ;"  so  beautiful ! 

Oh,  sing  it  me  again  1  ' 


i6 


THE   MINISTRY   OF   SONG. 


Sing  at  the  cottage  bedside  ; 

They  have  no  music  there, 
And  the  voice  of  praise  is  silent 

After  the  voice  of  prayer. 
Sing  of  the  gentle  Saviour 

In  the  simplest  hymns  you  know, 
And  the  pain-dimmed  eye  will  brighten 

As  the  soothing  verses  flow. 
Better  than  loudest  plaudits 

The  murmured  thanks  of  such, 
For  the  King  will  stoop  to  crown  them 

With  His  gracious  *  Inasmuch. ' 

Sing,  where  the  full-toned  organ 

Resounds  through  aisle  and  nave, 
And  the  choral  praise  ascendeth 

In  concord  sweet  and  grave. 
Sing,  where  the  village  voices 

Fall  harshly  on  your  ear ; 
And,  while  more  earnestly  you  join, 

Less  discord  you  will  hear. 
The  noblest  and  the  humblest 

Alike  are  '  common  praise/ 
And  not  for  human  ear  alone 

The  psalm  and  hymn  we  raise. 

Sing  in  the  deepening  twilight, 

When  the  shadow  of  eve  is  nigh, 
And  her  purple  and  golden  pinions 

Fold  o'er  the  western  sky. 
Sing  in  the  silver  silence, 

While  the  first  moonbeams  fall  ; 
So  shall  your  power  be  greater 

Over  the  hearts  of  all. 
Sing  till  you  bear  them  with  you 

Into  a  holy  calm, 
And  the  sacred  tones  have  scattered 

Manna,  and  myrrh,  and  balm. 

Sing  !  that  your  song  may  gladden  ; 

Sing  like  the  happy  rills, 
Leaping  in  sparkling  blessing 

Fresh  from  the  breezy  hills. 


Sing  !  that  your  song  may  silence 

The  folly  and  the  jest, 
And  the  '  idle  word  '  be  banished 

As  an  unwelcome  guest. 
Sing  !  that  your  song  may  echo 

After  the  strain  is  past, 
A  link  of  the  love- wrought  cable 

That  holds  some  vessel  fast. 

Sing  to  the  tired  and  anxious 

It  is  yours  to  fling  a  ray, 
Passing  indeed,  but  cheering, 

Across  the  rugged  way. 
Sing  to  God's  holy  servants, 

Weary  with  loving  toil, 
Spent  with  their  faithful  labor 

On  oft  ungrateful  soil. 
The  chalice  of  your  music     . 

All  reverently  bear, 
For  with  the  blessed  angels 

Such  ministry  you  share. 

When  you  long  to  bear  the  Message 

Home  to  some  troubled  breast, 
Then  sing  with  loving  fervor, 

1  Come  unto  Him,  and  rest. ' 
Or  would  you  whisper  comfort, 

Where  words  bring  no  relief, 
Sing  how  '  He  was  despised, 

Acquainted  with  our  grief/ 
And  aided  by  His  blessing, 

The  song  may  win  its  way 
Where  speech  had  no  admittance, 

And  change  the  night  to  day. 

Sing,  when  His  mighty  mercies 

And  marvellous  love  you  feel, 
And  the  deep  joy  of  gratitude 

Springs  freshly  as  you  kneel  ; 
When  words,  like  morning  starlight. 

Melt  powerless, — rise  and  sing  ! 
And  bring  your  sweetest  music 

To  Him,  your  gracious  King. 


SING,    WHERE   THE    FULL-TONED    ORGAN 
RESOUNDS   THROUGH   AISLE   AND   NAVE, 

AND   THE   CHORAL    PRAISE   ASCENDETH 
IN    CONCORD    SWEET   AND    GRAVE. 


Page  1 6. 


OUR   HIDDEN    LEAVES. 


Pour  out  your  song  before  Him 

To  whom  our  best  is  due  ; 
Remember,  He  who  hears  your  prayer 

Will  hear  your  praises  too. 

Sing  on  in  grateful  gladness  ! 

Rejoice  in  this  good  thing 
Which  the  Lord  thy  God  hath  given  thee, 

The  happy  power  to  sing. 
But  yield  to  Him,  the  Sovereign, 

To  whom  all  gifts  belong, 
In  fullest  consecration, 

Your  Ministry  of  Song, 
Until  His  mercy  grant  you 

That  resurrection  voice, 
Whose  only  ministry  shall  be, 

To  praise  Him  and  rejoice. 


OUR  HIDDEN  LEA  VES. 

OH  the  hidden  leaves  of  Life  ! 

Closely  folded  in  the  heart  ; 
Leaves  where  Memory's  golden  finger, 
Slowly  pointing,  loves  to  linger  ; 

Leaves  that  bid  the  old  tears  start 

Leaves  where  Hope  would  read  the  future, 
Sibylline,  and  charged  with  fate  : 

Leaves  which  calm  Submission  closeth, 

While  her  tearless  eye  reposeth 
On  the  legend,  '  Trust,  and  wait !  ' 

Leaves  which  grave  Experience  ponders, 

Soundings  for  her  pilot-charts  ; 
Leaves  which  God  Himself  is  storing, 
Records  which  we  read,  adoring 
Him  who  writes  on  human  hearts. 

ill  our  own,  our  treasured  secrets, 

Indestructible  archives  ! 
lone  can  copy,  none  can  steal  them, 
th  itself  shall  not  reveal  them, 

Sacred  manuscripts  of  lives. 


Some  are  filled  with  fairy  pictures, 
Half  imagined  and  half  seen; 

Radiant  faces,  fretted  towers, 

Sunset  colors,  starry  flowers, 
Wondrous  arabesques  between. 

Some  are  traced  with  liquid  sunbeams, 
Some  with  fire,  and  some  with  tears ; 
Some  with  crimson  dyes  are  glowing, 
From  a  smitten  life-rock  flowing 
Through  the  wilderness  of  years. 

Some  are  crossed  with  later  writing, 

Palimpsests  of  earliest  days  ; 
Old  remembrance  faintly  gleaming 
Through  the  thinking  and  the  dreaming 

Outlines  dim  in  noontide  haze. 

One  lies  open,  all  unwritten, 

To  the  glance  of  careless  sight ; 
Yet  it  bears  a  shining  story, 
Traced  in  phosphorescent  glory, 
Only  legible  by  night. 

One  is  dark  with  hieroglyphics 

Of  some  dynasty  of  grief  : 
Only  God,  and  just  one  other, 
Dearest  friend,  or  truest  brother, 

Ever  read  that  hidden  leaf. 

Many  a  leaf  is  undeciphered, 

Writ  in  languages  unknown  ; 
O'er  the  strange  inscription  bending, 
(Every  clue  in  darkness  ending,) 
Finding  no  '  Rosetta  Stone/ 

Still  we  study,  always  failing  ! 

God  can  read  it,  we  must  wait  ; 
Wait,  until  He  teach  the  mystery, 
Then  the  wisdom-woven  history 

Faith  shall  read,  and  Love  translate. 


18 


THE   MINISTRY    OF   SONG. 


Leaflets  now  unpaged  and  scattered 

Time's  great  library  receives  ; 
When  eternity  shall  bind  them, 
Golden  volumes  we  shall  find  them, 
God's  light  falling  on  the  leaves. 


THREEFOLD    PRAISE. 

HAYDN— MENDELSSOHN— HANDEL. 

'  We  bless  Thee  for  our  creation,  preservation, 
and  all  the  blessings  of  this  life  ;  but  above  all, 
for  Thine  inestimable  love  in  the  redemption  of 
the  world  by  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ.' 

PART  I. 

*  We  bless  Thee  for  our  creation.' 
Haydn's  <  Creation: 

WHAT  is  the  first  and  simplest  praise, 

The  universal  debt, 
Which  yet  the  thoughtless  heart  of  man, 

So  quickly  may  forget  ? 
'  We  bless  Thee  for  creation  T 

So  taught  the  noble  band 
Who  left  a  sound  and  holy  form, 

For  ages  yet  to  stand, 
Rich  legacy  of  praise  and  prayer, 

Laid  up  through  ages  past, 
Strong  witness  for  the  truth  of  God  : 

Oh,  may  we  hold  it  fast ! 

'  We  bless  Thee  for  creation  1' 

So  are  we  blithely  taught 
By  Haydn's  joyous  spirit ; 

Such  was  the  praise  he  brought. 
A  praise  all  morning  sunshine, 

And  sparklets  of  the  spring, 
O'er  which  the  long  life-shadows 

No  chastening  softness  fling. 


A  praise  of  early  freshness, 

Of  carol  and  of  trill. 
Re-echoing  all  the  music 

Of  valley  and  of  rill. 
A  praise  that  we  are  sharing 

With  every  singing  breeze, 
With  nightingales  and  linnets, 

With  waterfalls  and  trees  ; 
With  anthems  of  the  flowers 

Too  delicate  and  sweet 
For  all  their  fairy  minstrelsy 

Our  mortal  ears  to  greet 

A  mighty  song  of  blessing 

Archangels  too  uplift, 
For  their  own  bright  existence, 

A  grand  and  glorious  gift. 
But  such  their  full  life-chalice, 

So  sparkling  and  so  pure, 
And  such  their  vivid  sense  of  joy, 

Sweet,  solid,  and  secure, 
We  cannot  write  the  harmonies 

To  such  a  song  of  bliss, 
We  only  catch  the  melody, 

And  sing,  content  with  this. 

We  are  but  little  children, 

And  earth  a  broken  toy  ; 
We  do  not  know  the  treasures, 

In  our  Father's  house  of  joy. 
Thanksgivings  for  creation 

We  ignorantly  raise  ; 
We  know  not  yet  the  thousandth  part 

Of  that  for  which  we  praise. 

Yet,  praise  Him  for  creation  ! 

Nor  cease  the  happy  song, 
But  this  our  Hallelujah 

Through  all  our  life  prolong  ; 
'T  will  mingle  with  the  chorus 

Before  the  heavenly  throne, 
Where  what  it  truly  is  TO  BE 

Shall  first  be  fully  known. 


THREEFOLD   PRAISE. 


PART    II. 

*    ...     preservation,  and  all  the  blessings  o\ 
this  life.' 

Mendelssohn^ s  « Elijah. ' 

O  FELIX  !  happy  in  thy  varied  store 

Of  harmonies  undreamt  before, 
How  different  was  the  gift 
Of  praise  't  was  thine  to  pour, 

Whether  in  stately  calm,  or  tempest  strong 
and  swift ! 

Mark  the  day, 
In  mourning  robe  of  gray, 
Of  shrouded  mountain  and  of  storm-swept 

vale, 
And  purple  pall  spread  o'er  the  distance 

pale 

While  thunderous  masses  wildly  drift 
In   lurid   gloom   and  grandeur :  then  a 

swift 
And  dazzling  ray  bursts  through  a  sudden 

rift  ; 

The  dark  waves  glitter  as  the  storms  sub- 
side, 
And  all  is  light  and  glory  at  the  eventide. 

O  sunlight  of  thanksgiving  !     Who  that 

knows 
Its  bright  forth-breaking    after  dreariest 

days, 

Would  change  the  after- thought  of  woes, 
For  memory's  loveliest  light  that  glows, 
If  so  he  must  forego  one  note   of  that 
sweet  praise  ? 

For  not  the  song 

Which  knows  no  minor  cadence,  sad  and 
long; 

And  not  the  tide 
Whose  emerald  and  silver  pride 


Was  never  dashed  in  wild  and  writhing 

fray, 
Where  grim  and  giant  rocks   hurl  back 

the  spray  ; 

And  not  the  crystal  atmosphere, 
That  carves  each  outline  sharp  and  clear 
Upon  a  sapphire  sky  :  not  these,  not  these, 
Nor  aught  existing  but  to  charm    and 

please, 

Without  acknowledging  life's  mystery, 
And  all  the  mighty  reign 
Of  yearning  and  of  pain 
That  fills  its  half-read  history, 

Fit  music  can  supply 
To  lift  the  wandering  heart  on  high 
To  that  Preserving  Love,  which  rules  all 

change, 

And  gives  '  all  blessings  of  this  life, '  so 
dream-like  and  so  strange. 

And  his  was  praise 

Deeper  and  truer,  such  as  those  may  raise 
Who  know  both  shade  and  sunlight,  and 

whose  life 

Hath  learnt  victorious  strife 
Of  courage  and  of  trust  and  hope  still  dear, 
With  passion  and  with  grief,  with  danger 
and  with  fear. 


Upriseth  now  a  cry, 
Plaintive  and  piercing,  to  the  brazen  sky  : 
Help,  Lord  !  the  harvest  days  are  gone ; 
Help,  Lord  !  for  other  help  is  none ; 
The  infant  children  cry  for  bread, 
And  no  man  breaketh  it.     The  suckling's 

tongue  for  thirst 
Now  cleaveth  to  his  mouth.     Our  land  is 

cursed  ; 

Our  wasted  Zion   mourns,    in  vain  her 
hands  are  spread. 


2O 


THE   MINISTRY    OF   SONG. 


A  mother's  tale  of  grief, 

Of  sudden  blight  upon  the  chief, 

The  only  flower  of  love  that  cheered  her 

widowed  need  : 

O  loneliest !  O  desolate  indeed  ! 
Were  it  not  mockery  to  whisper  here 
A  word  of  hope  and  cheer  ? 

A  mountain  brow,  an  awe-struck  crowd, 
The  prayer-sent  flame,   the  prayer-sent 

cloud, 

A  mighty  faith,  a  more  than  kingly  power, 
Changed  for  depression's  darkest  hour. 
For  one  lone  shadow  in  the  desert  sought, 
A  fainting  frame,  a  spirit  overwrought, 
A  sense  of  labor  vain,    and  strength  all 
spent  for  naught. 

Death  hovering  near, 

With  visible  terror-spear 
Of  famine,  or  a  murder-stained  sword, 
A  stricken  land  forsaken  of  her  Lord  ; 

While  bowed  with  double  fear, 

The  faithful  few  appear  ; 
O  sorrows  manifold  outpoured ! 

Is  blessing  built  upon  such  dark  foun- 
dation ; 

And  can  a  temple  rising  from  such  woe, 
Rising  upon  such  mournful  crypts  be- 
low, 

Be  filled  with  light  and  joy  and  sounding 
adoration  ? 

O  strange  mosaic  !  wondrously  inlaid 

Are  all  its  depths  of  shade, 
With    beauteous    stones    of   promise, 

marbles  fair 

Of  trust  and  calm,  and  flashing  brightly, 
there 


The   precious  gems  of  praise  are   set, 

and  shine 

Resplendent  with   a   light    that    almost 
seems  Divine. 

Thanks  be  to  God  ! 
The  thirsty  land  He  laveth 
The  perishing  He  saveth  ; 
The  floods  lift  up  their  voices, 
The  answering  earth  rejoices. 
Thanks  be  to  Him,  and  never-ending 

laud, 
For  this  new  token  of  His  bounteous 

love, 
Who   reigns  in  might  the  waterfloods 

above : 

The  gathering  waters  rush  along  ; 
And  leaps  the  exultant  shout,  one  cataract 
of  song, 

Thanks  be  to  God  ! 


Thus  joyously  we  sing ; 
Nor  is  this  all  the  praise  we  bring. 
We   need   not    wait    for    earthquake, 

storm,  and  fire 
To  lift  our  praises  higher ; 
Nor  wait  for  heaven-dawn  ere  we  join 

the  hymn 

Of  throne-surrounding  cherubim  ; 
For  even  on  earth  their  anthem  hath 

begun, 
To  Him,  the  Mighty  and  the  Holy  One. 

We  know  the  still  small  Voice  in  many  a 
word 

Of  guidance,  and  command,  and  promise 
heard  ; 

And,  knowing  it,  we  bow  before  His  feet, 

With  love  and  awe  the  seraph-strain  re- 
peat, 


HIS  COMING,   THE   DESIRE   OF   AGES    LONG 

TO   WEAR  OUR  CHAINS,    AND   WIN   OUR   GLAD   RELEASE. 


Page  21. 


THREEFOLD    PRAISE. 


21 


Holy,  Holy,  Holy  !     God  the  Lord  ! 
His  glory  fills  the  earth,  His  name  be  all- 
adored. 

O  Lord,   our  Lord  I  how  excellent  Thy 

name 
Throughout  this  universal  frame  ! 

Therefore  Thy  children  rest 
Beneath  the  shadow  of  Thy  wings, 

A  shelter  safe  and  blest ; 
And  tune  their  often  tremulous  strings 
Thy  love  to  praise,  Thy  glory  to  proclaim, 
The  Merciful,  the  Gracious  One,  eternally 
The  Same. 


PART  III. 

« but  above  all,  for  Thine  inestimable  love 

in  the  redemption  of  the  world  by  our   Lord 
Jesus  Christ.' 

HandePs  «  Messiah* 

HUSH  !  for  a  master  harp  is  tuned  again, 
In  truest  unison  with  choirs  above, 

For  prelude  to  a  loftier,  sweeter  strain, 
The  praise  of  God's  inestimable  love ; 

Who  sent  redemption  to  a  world  of  woe, 

That  all  a  Father's  heart  His  banished 
ones  might  know. 

Hush  !  while   on  silvery  wing  of  holiest 

song 
Floats  forth  the  old,   dear  story  of  our 

peace, 

His  coming,  the  Desire  of  Ages  long, 
To  wear  our  chains,  and  win  our  glad 

release. 
Oar  wondering  joy,   to  hear  such  tidings 

blest, 
Is  crowned  with  '  Come  to  Him,  and  He 

will  give  you  rest ' 


Rest,    by  His  sorrow  !    Bruised  for  our 

sin, 
Behold  the  Lamb  of  God  !    His  death 

our  life. 
Now  lift  your  heads,  ye  gates  !  He  enter- 

eth  in, 
Christ  risen  indeed,  and  Conqueror  in 

the  strife. 
Thanks,  thanks  to  Him  who  won,    and 

Him  who  gave 
Such  victory  of  love,  such  triumph  o'er  the 

grave. 

Hark  !   '  Hallelujah  1'  O  sublimest  strain  ! 
Is  it  prophetic  echo  of  the  day 

When  He,    our  Saviour  and  our  King, 

shall  reign, 

And  all  the  earth  shall  own  His  right- 
eous sway  ? 

Lift  heart,  and  voice,  and  swell  the  mighty 
chords, 

While  hallelujahs  peal,  to  Him  the  Lord 
of  lords  1 

'  Worthy  of  all  adoration, 

Is  the  Lamb  that  once  was  slain/ 
Cry,  in  raptured  exultation, 
His  redeemed  from  ever)'  nation; 

Angel  myriads  join  the  strain, 
Sounding  from  their  sinless  strings 
Glory  to  the  King  of  kings  : 
Harping,  with  their  harps  of  gold, 
Praise  which  never  can  be  told. 

Hallelujahs  full  and  swelling 

Rise  around  His  throne  of  might, 

All  our  highest  laud  excelling, 

Holy  and  Immortal,  dwelling 
In  the  unapproached  light, 

He  is  worthy  to  receive 

All  that  heaven  and  earth  can  give ; 


22 


THE   MINISTRY   OF   SONG. 


Blessing,  honor,  glory,  might, 
All  are  His  by  glorious  right. 

As  the  sound  of  many  waters 

Let  the  full  Amen  arise  ! 
HALLELUJAH  !     Ceasing  never, 
Sounding  through  the  great  FOR  EVER, 

Linking  all  its  harmonies  ; 
Through  eternities  of  bliss, 
Lord,  our  rapture  shall  be  this  ; 
And  our  endless  life  shall  be 
One  AMEN  of  praise  to  Thee. 


NOT  YET. 

JOHN  xiii.  7. 

NOT  yet  thou  knowest  what  I  do, 

O  feeble  child  of  earth, 
Whose  life  is  but  to  angel  view 

The  morning  of  thy  birth  ! 
The  smallest  leaf,  the  simplest  flower, 

The  wild  bee's  honey-cell, 
Have  lessons  of  My  love  and  power 

Too  hard  for  thee  to  spell. 

Thou  knowest  not  how  I  uphold 

The  little  thou  dost  scan  ; 
And  how  much  less  canst  thou  unfold 

My  universal  plan, 
Where  all  thy  mind  can  grasp  of  space 

Is  but  a  grain  of  sand  ; — 
The  time  thy  boldest  thought  can  trace, 

One  ripple  on  the  strand  ! 

Not  yet  thou  knowest  what  I  do, 

In  this  wild  warring  world, 
Whose  prince  doth  still  triumphant  view 

Confusion's  flag  unfurled  ; 
Nor  how  each  proud  and  daring  thought 

Is  subject  to  My  will, 
Each  strong  and  secret  purpose  brought 

My  counsel  to  fulfil. 


Not  yet  thou  knowest  how  I  bid 

Each  passing  hour  entwine 
Its  grief  or  joy,  its  hope  or  fear, 

In  one  great  love-design  ; 
Not  how  I  lead  thee  through  the  night, 

By  many  a  various  way, 
Still  upward  to  unclouded  light, 

And  onward  to  the  day. 

Not  yet  thou  knowest  what  I  do 

Within  thine  own  weak  breast, 
To  mould  thee  to  My  image  true, 

And  fit  thee  for  My  rest. 
But  yield  thee  to  My  loving  skill ; 

The  veiled  work  of  grace, 
From  day  to  day  progressing  still, 

It  is  not  thine  to  trace. 

Yes,  walk  by  faith  and  not  by  sight, 

Fast  clinging  to  My  hand  ; 
Content  to  feel  My  love  and  might, 

Not  yet  to  understand. 
A  little  while  thy  course  pursue, 

Till  grace  to  glory  grow  ; 
Then  what  I  am,  and  what  I  do, 

Hereafter  thou  shalt  know. 


THANKSGIVING. 

THANKS  be  to  God  !  to  whom  earth  owes 

Sunshine  and  breeze, 
The  heath-clad  hill,  the  vale's  repose, 

Streamlet  and  seas, 
The  snowdrop  and  the  summer  rose, 

The  many- voiced  trees. 

Thanks  for  the  darkness  that  reveals 

Night's  starry  dower  ; 
And  for  the  sable  cloud  that  heals 

Each  fevered  flower  ; 
And  for  the  rushing  storm  that  peals 

Our  weakness  and  Thy  power. 


LIFE- CRYSTALS. 


Thanks  for  the  sweetly-lingering  might 

In  music's  tone  ; 
For  paths  of  knowledge,  whose  calm  light 

Is  all  Thine  own  ; 
For  thoughts  that  at  the  Infinite 

Fold  their  bright  wings  alone. 

Yet  thanks  that  silence  oft  may  flow 

In  dewlike  store  ; 
Thanks  for  the  mysteries  that  show 

How  small  our  lore  ; 
Thanks  that  we  here  so  little  know, 

And  trust  Thee  all  the  more  ! 

Thanks  for  the  gladness  that  entwines 

Our  path  below  ; 
Each  sunrise  that  incarnadines 

The  cold,  still,  snow ; 
Thanks  for  the  light  of  love  which  shines 

With  brightest  earthly  glow. 

Thanks  for  the  sickness  and  the  grief 

Which  none  may  flee  ; 
For  loved  ones  standing  now  around 

The  crystal  sea  ; 
And  for  the  weariness  of  heart 

Which  only  rests  in  Thee. 

Thanks    for    Thine    own    thrice-blessed 
Word, 

And  Sabbath  rest ; 
Thanks  for  the  hope  of  glory  stored 

In  mansions  blest  ; 
Thanks  for  the  Spirit's  comfort  poured 

Into  the  trembling  breast. 

Thanks,   more  than  thanks,   to  Him  as- 
cend, 

Who  died  to  win 
Our  life,  and  every  trophy  rend 

From  Death  and  Sin ; 


Till,  when  the  thanks  of  Earth  shall  end, 
The  thanks  of  Heaven  begin. 

NOTE. — It  may  be  well  to  say,  tbat_  these  ver- 
ses were  in  print  before  the  writer  either  saw  or 
heard  of  the  beautiful  little  poem  by  Adelaide 
Proctor  on  the  same  theme. 


LIFE-CRYSTALS. 

THE  world  is  full  of  crystals.  Swift,  or 
slow, 

Or  dark,  or  bright  their  varying  forma- 
tion ; 

From  pure  calm  heights  of  fair  untrodden 
snow 

To  fire-wrought  depths  of  earliest  creation. 

And  life  is  full  of  crystals  ;  forming  still 

In  myriad-shaped  results  from  good  and 
seeming  ill. 

Yes !  forming  everywhere ;  in  busiest 
street, 

In  noisiest  throng.  Oh  how  it  would  as- 
tound us, 

The  strange  soul-chemistry  of  some  we 
meet 

In  slight  and  passing  talk  !  For  all  around 
us, 

Deep  inner  silence  broods  o'er  gems  to  be. 

Now,  in  three  visioned  hearts  trace  out 
the  work  with  me  ! 

A  heart  that  wonderingly  received  the  flow 
Of  marvels  and  of  mysteries  of  being, 
Of  sympathies  and  tensions,  joy  and  woe ; 
Each  earnestly  from  baser  substance  free- 
ing : 
A  great  life-mixture,  full,  and  deep,  and 

strong  : 

A  sudden  touch,  and  lo  !  it  crystallized  in 
song. 


THE   MINISTRY   OF   SONG. 


Then  forth  it  flashed  among  the  souls  of 
men 

Its  own  prismatic  radiance,  brightly  sealing 

A  several  rainbow  for  each  several  ken  ; 

The  secrets  of  the  distant-stars  revealing  ; 

Reflecting  many  a  heart's  clear  rays  un- 
known, 

And,  freely  shedding  light,  it  analyzed 
their  own. 

A  heart  from  which  all  joy  had  ebbed 
away, 

And  grief  poured  in  a  flood  of  burning 
anguish, 

Then  sealed  the  molten  glow ;  till  day  by 
day, 

The  fires  without,  within,  began  to  lan- 
guish : 

Then  ' afterward  '  came  coolness,  all  was 
well, 

And  from  the  broken  crust  a  shining 
crystal  fell. 

A  mourner  found,  and  fastened  on  her 
breast 

The  soft-hued  gem,  the  prized  by  mourn- 
ers only  ; 

With  sense  of  treasure  gained  she  sought 
her  rest, 

No  longer  wandering  in  the  twilight  lone- 

iy; 

The  sorrow-crystal  glittering  in  the  dark, 
While  faith  and  hope  shone  out  to  greet 
its  starry  spark. 

A  heart  where  emptiness  seemed  emptier 
made 

By  colorless  remains  of  tasteless  pleas- 
ure ; 

ONE  came,  and  pitying  the  hollow  shade, 

Poured  in  His  own  strong  love  in  fullest 
measure ; 


Then  shadowed  it  with  silent  falling  night, 
And  stilled  it  with  the  solemn  Presence 
of  His  might. 

A  little  while,  then  found  the  Master  there 
Love- crystals,    sparkling  in    the    joyous 

morning  ; 
He  stooped  to  gaze,  and  smiled  to  own 

them  fair, 
A  treasured  choice  for  His  own  rich  adorn  - 

ing; 

Then  set  them  in  His  diadem  above, 
To  mingle  evermore  with  His  own  light 

and  love. 


NOT  YOUR  OWN. 

4  Not  your  own  ! '  but  His  ye  are, 

Who  hath  paid  a  price  untold 
For  your  life,  exceeding  far 

All  earth's  store  of  gems  and  gold. 
With  the  precious  blood  of  Christ, 

Ransom  treasure  all  unpriced, 
Full  redemption  is  procured, 

Full  salvation  is  assured. 

'  Not  your  own  ! '  but  His  by  right, 

His  peculiar  treasure  now, 
Fair  and  precious  in  His  sight, 

Purchased  jewels  for  His  brow. 
He  will  keep  what  thus  he  sought, 

Safely  guard  the  dearly  bought, 
Cherish  that  which  He  did  choose, 

Always  love  and  never  lose. 

'  Not  your  own  ! '  but  His,  the  King, 
His,  the  Lord  of  earth  and  sky, 

His,  to  whom  archangels  bring 
Homage  deep  and  praises  high. 


WOUNDED. 


What  can  royal  birth  bestow  ? 

Or  the  proudest  titles  show  ? 
Can  such  dignity  be  known 

As  the  glorious  name,  '  His  own  ! } 

*  Not  your  own  !  '  To  Him  ye  owe 

All  your  life  and  all  your  love  : 
Live,  that  ye  His  praise  may  show, 

Who  is  yet  all  praise  above. 
Every  day  and  every  hour, 

Every  gift  and  every  power, 
Consecrate  to  Him  alone, 

Who  hath  claimed  you  for  His  own. 

Teach  us,  Master,  how  to  give 

All  we  have  and  are  to  Thee  ; 
Grant  us,  Saviour,  while  we  live, 

Wholly,  only,  Thine  to  be. 
Henceforth  be  our  calling  high 

Thee  to  serve  and  glorify  ; 
Ours  no  longer,  but  Thine  own, 

Thine  for  ever,  Thine  alone  ! 


WOUNDED. 

ONLY  a  look  and  a  motion  that  nobody 

saw  or  heard, 
Past  in  a  moment  and  over,  with  never 

the  sound  of  a  word  ; 
Streams  of  converse  around  me  smoothly 

and  cheerily  flow, 
But  a  terrible  stab  has  been  given,  a  silent 

and  staggering  blow. 

Guesses  the  hand  that  gave   it   hardly   a 

tithe  of  the  smart, 
Nothing  at  all  of  the  anguish  that  fiercely 

leapt  up  in  my  heart, 
Scorching  and  scathing  its  peace,  while  a 

tremulous  nerve  to  the  brain 
Flashed  up  a  telegram  sudden,  a  message 

of  quivering  pain. 


They  must  be  merry  without  me,  for  how 

can  I  sing  to-night  ? 
They  will   only  think    I   am  tired,  and 

thoughtfully  shade  the  lightf  ; 
Finger  and   voice  would  fail   while   the 

wound  is  open  and  sore  ; 
Bleeding  away  the  strength  I  had  gathered 

for  days  before. 

Only  a  look  and  a  motion  !  Yes,  but  we 
little  know 

How  from  each  dwarf-like  '  only '  a  giant 
of  power  may  grow  ; 

The  thundering  avalanche  crushes,  loos- 
ened by  only  a  breath, 

And  only  a  colorless  drop  may  be  laden 
with  sudden  death. 

Only  a  word  of  command,  but  it  loses  or 

wins  the  field  ; 
Only  a  stroke  of  the  pen,  but  a  heart  is 

broken  or  healed ; 
Only  a  step  may  sever,  pole-wide,  future 

and  past ; 
Only  a  touch  may  rivet  links  which  for 

life  shall  last. 

Only  a  look  and  a  motion !      Why  was 

the  wound  so  deep  ? 
Were  it  no  echo  of  sorrow,  hushed  for  a 

while  to  sleep, 
Were  it  no  shadow  of  fear,  far  o'er  the 

future  thrown, 
Slight  were  the  suffering  now,  if  it  bore 

on  the  present  alone. 

Ah  !  I  would  smile  it  away,  but  'tis  all  too 

fresh  and  too  keen  ; 
Perhaps  I  may  some  day  recall  it  as  if  it 

had  never  been  : 


26 


THE   MINISTRY   OF  SONG. 


Now  I  can  only  be  still,  and  endure  where 
I  cannot  cope, 

Praying  for  meekness  and  patience,  pray- 
ing for  faith  and  hope. 

Is  it  an  answer  already  that  words  to  my 

mind  are  brought, 
Floating  like  shining  lilies  on  waters  of 

gloomiest  thought  ? 
Simple  and  short  is  the  sentence,  but  oh  ! 

what  it  comprehends  ! 
'Those  with  which  I  was  wounded,  in  the 

house  of  My  friends.' 

Floating  still  on  my  heart,  while  I  listen 

again  and  again, 
Stilling  the  anxious  throbbing,   soothing 

the  icy  pain, 
Proving   its  sacred  mission  healing   and 

balm  to  bring. 
'  Coming  ?'    Yes,  if  you  want  me !     Yes, 

I  am  ready  to  sing. 


WHOSE  I  AM. 

JESUS,  Master,  whose  I  am, 
Purchased  Thine  alone  to  be, 

By  Thy  blood,  O  spotless  Lamb, 
Shed  so  willingly  for  me ; 

Let  my  heart  be  all  Thine  own, 

Let  me  live  to  Thee  alone. 

Other  lords  have  long  held  sway  ; 

Now,  Thy  name  alone  to  bear, 
Thy  dear  voice  alone  obey, 

Is  my  daily,  hourly  prayer. 
Whom  have  I  in  heaven  but  Thee  ? 
Nothing  else  my  joy  can  be. 

Jesus,  Master  !  I  am  Thine ; 

Keep  me  faithful,  keep  me  near  ; 
Let  Thy  presence  in  me  shine 

All  my  homeward  way  to  cheer. 


Jesus  !  at  Thy  feet  I  fall, 
Oh,  be  Thou  my  All-in-all. 


WHOM  I  SER  VE. 

JESUS,  Master,  whom  I  serve, 
Though  so  feebly  and  so  ill, 

Strengthen  hand  and  heart  and  nerve 
All  Thy  bidding  to  fulfil  ; 

Open  Thou  mine  eyes  to  see 

All  the  work  Thou  hast  for  me. 

Lord,  Thou  needest  not,  I  know, 
Service  such  as  I  can  bring ; 

Yet  I  long  to  prove  and  show 
Full  allegiance  to  my  King. 

Thou  an  honor  1  art  to  me, 

Let  me  be  a  praise  to  Thee. 

Jesus,  Master  !  wilt  Thou  use 

One  who  owes  Thee  more  than  all  ? 

As  thou  wilt !     I  would  not  choose, 
Only  let  me  hear  Thy  call. 

Jesus  !  let  me  always  be 

In  Thy  service  glad  and  free. 


PEACE. 

Is  this  the  Peace  of  God,  this  strange, 

sweet  calm  ? 

The  weary  day  is  at  its  zenith  still, 
Yet  'tis  as  if  beside  some  cool,  clear  rill, 
Through  shadowy  stillness  rose  an  even- 
ing psalm, 

And  all  the  noise  of  life  were  hushed  away, 
And  tranquil  gladness  reigned  with  gently 
soothing  sway. 

It  was  not  so  just  now.     I  turned  aside 
With  aching  head,  and  heart  most  sorely 
bowed ; 


See  marginal  reading  of  I  Pet.  ii.  7. 


GOD'S   MESSAGE. 


Around  me  cares  and  griefs  in  crushing 

crowd, 
While  inly  rose  the  sense,  in  swelling 

tide, 

Of  weakness,  insufficiency,  and  sin, 
And    fear,    and    gloom,  and    doubt,    in 

mighty  flood  rolled  in. 

That  rushing  flood  I  had  no  strength 
to  meet, 

Nor  power  to  flee  :  my  present,  future, 
past, 

My  self,  my  sorrow,  and  my  sin  I  cast 

•    In  utter  helplessness  at  Jesu's  feet ; 

Then  bent  me  to  the  storm,  if  such  His 
will. 

He  saw  the  winds  and  waves,  and  whis- 
pered, '  Peace,  be  still !' 

And  there  was  calm  !     O   Saviour,    I 

have  proved 

That  Thou  to  help  and  save  art  really  near  : 
How  else  this  quiet  rest  from  grief  and 

fear, 

And  all  distress  ?  The  cross  is  not  re- 
moved, 

I  must  go  forth  to  bear  it  as  before, 
But,  leaning  on  Thine  arm,   I  dread  its 
weight  no  more. 

Is  it  indeed  Thy  Peace  ?  I  have  not  tried 
To  analyze  my  faith,  dissect  my  trust, 
Or  measure  if  belief  be  full  and  just, 
And  therefore  claim  Thy  Peace.     But 

Thou  hast  died. 

I  know  that  this  is  true,  and  true  for  me, 
And,  knowing  it,  I  come,  and  cast  my 
all  on  Thee. 

It  is  not  that  I  feel  less  weak,  but  Thou 
Wilt  be  my  strength  ;  it  is  not  that  I  see 


Less  sin,    but  more   of  pardoning   love 

with  Thee, 
And   all-sufficient    grace.  _   Enough ! 

And  now 

All  fluttering  thought  is  stilled,  I  only  rest, 
And  feel  that  Thou  art  near,  and  know 

that  I  am  blest. 


GOD'S  MESSAGE. 

TO  HIM  THAT   IS   FAR  OFF. 

PEACE,  peace ! 
To  him  that  is  far  away. 
Turn,  O  wanderer !  why  wilt  thou  die, 
When   the   peace   is  made   that  shalt 

bring  thee  nigh  ? 

Listen,  O  rebel !  the  heralds  proclaim 
The   King's    own    peace    through    a 

Saviour's  name  ; 
Then  yield  thee  to-day. 

Peace,  peace  ! 

The  word  of  the  Lord  to  thee. 
Peace,  for  thy  passion  and  restless  pride, 
For  thy  endless  cravings  all  unsupplied, 
Peace  for  thy  weary  and  sin- worn  breast ; 
He  knows  the  need  who  has  promised 

rest, 
And  the  gift  is  free. 

Peace,  peace ! 

Through  Him  who  for  all  hath  died  ! 
Wider  the  terms  than  thy  deepest  guilt, 
Or  in  vain  were  the  blood  of  our  Surety 

spilt  : 

Even  because  thou  art  far  away 
To  thee  is  the  message  of  peace  to-day, 
Peace  through  the  Crucified. 


28 


THE   MINISTRY  OF  SONG. 


AND  TO  HIM  THAT  IS  NEAR. 

PEACE,  peace  ! 

Yea,  peace  to  him  that  is  near. 
The  crown  is  set  on  the  Victor's  brow, 
For  thy  warfare  is  accomplished  now  ; 
And  for  thee  eternal  peace  is  made 
By  the  Lord  on  whom  thy  sins  were  laid : 

Then  why  shouldst  thou  fear  ? 

Peace,  peace  ! 

Wrought  by  the  Spirit  of  Might. 
In  thy  deepest  sorrow  and  sorest  strife, 
In  the  changes  and  chances  of  mortal 

life, 

It  is  thine,  beloved  !  Christ's  own  be- 
quest, 
Which  vainly  the  Tempter  shall  strive 

to  wrest ; 
It  is  now  thy  right. 

Peace,  peace  ! 

Look  for  its  bright  increase ; 
Deepening,  widening,  year  by  year, 
Like  a  sunlit  river,  strong,  calm,  and 

clear  ; 
Lean  on  His  love  through  this  earthly 

vale, 
For  His  word  and  His  work  shall  never 

fail, 
And  '  He  is  our  Peace, ' 


•A  GREAT  MYSTERY: 

THERE  is  a  hush  in  earth  and  sky, 

The  ear  is  free  to  list  aright 
In  darkness,  veiling  from  the  eye 

The  many-colored  spells  of  light. 

Not  heralded  by  fire  and  storm, 
In  shadowy  outline  dimly  seen, 

Comes  through  the  gloom  a  glorious  Form, 
The  once  despised  Nazarene. 


Through  waiting  silence,  voiceless  shade, 
A  still  small  Voice  so  clearly  floats, 

A  listening  lifetime  were  o'erpaid 
By  one  sweet  echo  of  such  notes. 

'  Fear  not,  beloved  !  thou  art  Mine, 
For  I  have  given  My  life  for  thee  ; 

By  name  I  call  thee,  rise  and  shine, 
Be  praise  and  glory  unto  Me. 

( In  Me  all  spotless  and  complete, 
And  in  My  comeliness  most  fair 

Art  thou  ;  to  Me  thy  voice  is  sweet, 
Prevailing  in  thy  feeblest  prayer. 

'Thy  life  is  hid  in  God  with  Me, 
I  stoop  to  dwell  within  thy  breast ; 

My  joy  forever  thou  shalt  be, 
And  in  My  love  for  thee  I  rest 

'  O  Prince's  daughter,  whom  I  see 
In  bridal  garments,  pure  as  light, 

Betrothed  forever  unto  Me, 

On  thee  My  own  new  name  I  write. 

Lo  !  'neath  the  stars'  uncertain  ray 
In  flowing  mantle  glistening  fair, 

One,  lowly  bending  turns  away 

From  that  sweet  voice  in  cold  despair. 

Is  it  Humility,  who  sees 

Herself  unworthy  of  such  grace, 

Who  dares  not  hope  her  Lord  to  please, 
Who  dares  not  look  upon  His  face  ? 

Nay,  where  that  mantle  fleeting  gleams 
'Tis  Unbelief  who  turns  aside, 

Who  rather  rests  in  self- spun  dreams, 
Than  trust  the  love  of  Him  who  died. 

Faith  casts  away  the  fair  disguise, 

She  will  not  doubt  her  Master's  voice, 

And  droop  when  He  hath  bid  her  rise, 
Or  mourn  when  He  hath  said, '  Rejoice!' 


THE  GREAT  TEACHER. 


Her  stained  and  soiled  robe  she  leaves, 
And  Christ's  own  shining  raiment  takes; 

What  His  love  gives,  her  love  receives, 
And  meek  and  trustful  answer  makes  : 

'  Behold  the  handmaid  of  the  Lord ! 

Thou  callest,  and  I  come  to  Thee  : 
According  to  Thy  faithful  word, 

0  Master,  be  it  unto  me  I 

'  Thy  love  I  cannot  comprehend, 

1  only  know  Thy  word  is  true, 
And  that  Thou  lovest  to  the  end 

Each  whom  to  Thee  the  Father  drew. 

'  Oh  !  take  the  heart  I  could  not  give 
Without  Thy  strength-bestowing  call; 

In  Thee,  and  for  Thee,  let  me  live, 
For  I  am  nothing,  Thou  art  all. ' 


BE  NOT  WEARY. 

YES  !  He  knows  the  way  is  dreary, 
Knows  the  weakness  of  our  frame, 

Knows  that  hand  and  heart  are  weary  ; 
He,  '  in  all  points, '  felt  the  same. 

He  is  near  to  help  and  bless  ; 

Be  not  weary,  onward  press. 

Look  to  Him  who  once  was  willing 

All  His  glory  to  resign, 
That,  for  thee  the  law  fulfilling, 

All  His  merit  might  be  thine. 
Strive  to  follow  day  by  day 
Where  His  footsteps  mark  the  way. 

Look  to  Him,  the  Lord  of  Glory, 
Tasting  death  to  win  thy  life  ; 

Gazing  on  '  that  wondrous  story/ 
Canst  thou  falter  in  the  strife  ? 

Is  it  not  new  life  to  know 

That  the  Lord  hath  loved  thee  so  ? 


Look  to  Him  who  ever  liveth, 

Interceding  for  His  own  : 
Seek,  yea,  claim  the  grace  He  giveth 

Freely  from  His  priestly  throher 
Will  He  not  thy  strength  renew 
With  His  Spirit's  quickening  dew  ? 

Look  to  Him  and  faith  shall  brighten, 
Hope  shall  soar,  and  love  shall  burn  ; 

Peace  once  more  thy  heart  shall  lighten— 
Rise  !  He  calleth  thee,  return  ! 

Be  not  weary  on  thy  way, 

Jesus  is  thy  strength  and  stay. 


THE  GREAT  TEACHER. 

I  LOVE  to  feel  that  I  am  taught, 

And,  as  a  little  child, 
To  note  the  lessons  I  have  learnt 

In  passing  through  the  wild. 
For  I  am  sure  God  teaches  me, 

And  His  own  gracious  hand 
Each  varying  page  before  me  spreads, 

By  love  and  wisdom  planned. 

I  often  think  I  cannot  spell 

The  lesson  I  must  learn, 
And  then,  in  weariness  and  doubt, 

I  pray  the  page  may  turn  ; 
But  time  goes  on,  and  soon  I  find 

I  was  learning  all  the  while  ; 
And   words  which  seemed  mostly  dimly- 
traced 

Shine  out  with  rainbow  smile. 

Or  sometimes  strangely  I  forget, 

And,  learning  o'er  and  o'er, 
A  lesson  all  with  tear-drops  wet, 

Which  I  had  learnt  before. 


THE   MINISTRY   OF   SONG. 


He  chides  me  not,  but  waits  awhile, 
Then  wipes  my  heavy  eyes  : 

Oh,  what  a  Teacher  is  our  God, 
So  patient  and  so  wise ! 

Dark  silent  hours  of  study  fall, 

And  I  can  scarcely  see ; 
Then  one  beside  me  whispers  low 

What  is  so  hard  to  me. 
'Tis  easier  then  !     I  am  so  glad 

I  am  not  taught  alone  ; 
It  is  such  help  to  overhear 

A  lesson  like  my  own. 

Sometimes  the  Master  gives  to  me 

A  strange  new  alphabet  ; 
I  wonder  what  its  use  will  be, 

Or  why  it  need  be  set. 
And  then  I  find  this  tongue  alone 

Some  stranger  ear  can  reach, 
One  whom  He  may  commission  me 

For  Him  to  train  or  teach. 

If  others  sadly  bring  to  me 

A  lesson  hard  and  new, 
I  often  find  that  helping  them 

Has  made  me  learn  it  too. 
Or,  had  I  learnt  it  long  before, 

My  toil  is  overpaid, 
If  so  one  tearful  eye  may  see 

One  lesson  plainer  made. 

We  do  not  see  our  Teacher's  face, 

We  do  not  hear  His  voice  ; 
And  yet  we  know  that  He  is  near, 

We  feel  it,  and  rejoice. 
There  is  a  music  round  our  hearts, 

Set  in  no  mortal  key  ; 
There  is  a  Presence  with  our  souls, 

We  know  that  it  is  He. 


His  loving  teaching  cannot  fail ; 

And  we  shall  know  at  last 
Each  task  that  seemed  so  hard  and  strange, 

When  learning  time  is  past. 
Oh  !  may  we  learn  to  love  Him  more, 

By  every  opening  page, 
By  every  lesson  He  shall  mark 

With  daily  ripening  age. 

And  then,  to  'know  as  we  are  known' 

Shall  be  our  glorious  prize, 
To  see  the  Teacher  who  hath  been 

So  patient  and  so  wise. 
O  joy  untold  !     Yet  not  alone 

Shall  ours  the  gladness  be  ; 
The  travail  of  His  soul  in  us 

Our  Saviour-God  shall  see. 


AUNTIE'S  LESSONS. 

THEY  said   their  texts,  and  their  hymns 

they  sang, 

On  that  sunny  Sabbath-day  ; 
And  yet  there  was  time  ere  the  church-bell 

rang, 

So  I  bid  them  trot  away, 
And  leave  me  to  rest  and  read  alone, 
Where  the  ash-tree's  shade  o'er  the  lawn 
was  thrown. 

But  oh  !  '  twas  a  cry  and  a  pleading  sore, 
'  O  Auntie  !  we  will  not  tease, 

But  tell  us  one  Sunday  story  more  ; 

We  will  sit  so  still  on  the  grassy  floor  ; 

Tell  us  the  one  you  told  before 
Of  the  little  black  Mumu,  please, 

Whom,    deaf  and  dumb,    and   sick  and 

lone, 
The  good  ship  brought  to  Sierra  Leone.' 


ONE   QUESTION,    MANY   ANSWERS. 


Willie  begged  load,  and  Francie  low, 
And  Alice,  who  could  resist  her  ? 

Certainly  not  myself,  and  so 

The  story  was  just  beginning,  when  lo  ! 
To  the  rescue  came  my  sister. 

'/  will  tell  you  a  story  to-day  : 

Aunt  Fanny  has  all  her  own  lessons  to  say !' 

Wonderful  notion,  and  not  at  all  clear  I 
Alfred  looked  quite  astounded. 

Who  in  the  world  my  lessons  could  hear  ? 

They  guessed  at  every  one  far  and  near, 
'Twas  a  mystery  unbounded. 

They  settled  at  last  that  it  must  be 
Grandpapa  Havergal  over  the  sea. 

Then  merry  eyes  grew  grave  and  wise, 

On  tiptoe  Alice  trod  ; 
She  had  a  better  thought  than  they, 
And  whispered  low,  '  Does  Auntie  say 

Her  lessons  all  to  God  ?' 
How  little  the  import  deep  she  knew 
Of  those  baby-words,  so  sweet  and  true  ! 

Little  she  knew  what  they  enfold  ! — 
A  treasure  of  happy  thought  ; 

A  tiny  casket  of  virgin  gold, 
With  jewels  of  comfort  fraught. 

Great  men's  wisdom  may  pass  away, 

Dear  Alice's  words  in  my  heart  will  stay. 


REST. 

'Thou  hast  made  us  for  Thyself,  and  the 
heart  never  resteth  till  it  findeth  rest  in  Thee.' 
St.  Augustine. 

MADE  for  Thyself,  O  God  ! 

Made  for  Thy  love,  Thy  service,  Thy  de- 
light ; 

Made  to  show  forth  Thy  wisdom,  grace, 
and  might  ; 

Made  for  Thy  praise,  whom  veiled  arch- 
angels laud  ; 


Oh  strange  and  glorious  thought,  that  we 
may  be 

A  joy  to  Thee ! 

Yet  the  heart  turns  away 
From   this  grand  destiny  of  bliss,    and 

deems 
'Twas  made  for  its  poor  self,  for  passing 

dreams, 

Chasing  illusions  melting  day  by  day  ; 
Till  for  ourselves  we  read  on  this  world's 
best, 

'  This  is  not  rest !' 

Nor  can  the  vain  toil  cease, 
Till  in  the  shadowy  maze  of  life  we  meet 
One  who  can  guide  our  aching,  wayward 

feet 
To  find  Himself,  .our  Way,  our  Life,  our 

Peace. 

In  Him  the  long  unrest  is  soothed  and 
stilled  ; 

Our  hearts  are  filled. 

O  rest,  so  true,  so  sweet ! 
(Would  it  were  shared  by  all  the  weary 

world  !) 

'Neath  shadowing  banner  of  His  love  un- 
furled, 

We  bend  to  kiss  the  Master's  pierced  feet ; 
Then  lean   our  love  upon   His    loving 
breast, 
And  know  God's  rest 


ONE  QUESTION,  MANY  AN- 
SWERS. 

'  WHAT  wouldst  thou  be  ?' 
The  question  hath  wakened  wild  thoughts 

in  me, 
And  a  thousand  responses,    like  ghosts 

from  their  graves, 


THE   MINISTRY    OF   SONG. 


Arise  from  my  soul's  unexplored  deep 
caves, 

The  echoes  of  every  varying  mood 

Of  a  wayward  spirit  all  unsubdued  ; 

The  voices  which  thrill  through  my  in- 
most breast 

May  tell  me  of  gladness,  but  not  of  rest. 
What  wouldst  thou  be  ? 

'Tis  well  that  the  answer  is  not  for  me. 

'  What  wouldst  thou  be  ?' 

An  eagle  soaring  rejoicingly. 

One  who  may  rise  on  the  lightning's 
wing, 

Till  our  wide,  wide  world  seem  a  tiny 
thing ; 

Who  may  stand  on  the  confines  of  bound- 
less space, 

And  the  giant  form  of  the  universe  trace, 

While  its  full  grand  harmonies  swell 
around, 

And  grasp  it  all  with  mind  profound. 
Such  would  I  be, 

Only  stayed  by  infinity. 

'  What  wouldst  thou  be  ?' 
A  bright  incarnation  of  melody. 
One  whose  soul  is  a  fairy  lute, 
Waking  such  tones  as  bid  all  be  mute, 
Breathing  such  notes  as  may  silence  woe, 
Pouring  such  strains  as  make  joy  o'erflow, 
Speaking  in  music  the  heart's  deep  emo- 
tion, 

Soothing  and  sweet  as  the  shell  of  the 
ocean. 

Such  would  I  be, 
Like  a  fountain  of  music,  all  pure  and  free. 

'  What  wouldst  thou  be  ?' 
A  living  blossom  of  poesy. 
A  soul  of  mingled  power  and  light, 
Evoking  images  rare  and  bright, 


Fair  and  pure  as  an  angel's  dream  ; 
Touching  all  with  a  heavenly  gleam  ; 
And  royally  claiming  from  poet-throne, 
Earth's  treasure  of  beauty  as  all  mine  own. 

Such  would  I  be — 
My  childhood's  dream  in  reality ! 

'  What  wouldst  thou  be  ?' 
A  wondrous  magnet  to  all  I  see. 
A  spirit  whose  power  may  touch  and  bind 
With  unconscious  influence  every  mind; 
Whose  presence  brings,  like  some  fabled 

wand, 

The  love  which  a  monarch  may  not  com- 
mand. 

As  the  spring  awakens  from  cold  repose 
The  bloomless  brier,  the  sweet  wild  rose. 

Such  would  I  be, 
With  the  love  of  all  to  encircle  me. 

'  What  wouldst  thou  be  ?' 
A  wavelet  just  rising  from  life's  wide  sea. 
I  would  I  were  once  again  a  child, 
Like   a  laughing  floweret  on  mountains 

wild  ; 

In  the  fairy  realms  of  fancy  dwelling, 
The  golden  moments  for  sunbeams  selling; 
Ever  counting  on  bright  to-morrows, 
And  knowing  nought  of  unspoken  sorrows. 

Such  would  I  be, 
A  sparkling  cascade  of  untiring  glee. 

'  What  wouldst  thou  be  ?' 
A  blessing  to  each  one  surrounding  me ; 
A  chalice  of  dew  to  the  weary  heart, 
A  sunbeam  of  joy  bidding  sorrow  depart, 
To  the  storm-tossed  vessel  a  beacon  light, 
A  nightingale  song  in  the  darkest  night, 
A  beckoning  hand  to  a  far-off  goal, 
An  angel  of  love  to  each  friendless  soul : 

Such  would  I  be. 
Oh  that  such  happiness  were  for  me ! 


CONTENT. 


33 


'  What  wouldst  thou  be?' 
With  these  alone  were  no  rest  for  me. 
I  would  be  my  Saviour's  loving  child, 
With   a  heart  set  free  from    its  passions 

wild, 
Rejoicing  in   Him  and   His   own   sweet 

ways  ; 

An  echo  of  heaven's  unceasing  praise, 
A  mirror  here  of  His  light  and  love, 
And  a  polished  gem  in  His  crown  above. 

Such  would  I  be, 
Thine,  O  Saviour,  and  one  with  Thee  ! 


CONTENT. 

1  "WHAT  wouldst  thou  be ?" 
A  wavelet  just  rising  from  life's  wide  sea. 
I  would  I  were  once  again  a  child, 
Like  a   laughing  floweret  on  mountains 

wild  ; 

In  the  fairy  realms  of  fancy  dwelling, 
The  golden  moments  for  sunbeams  sell- 
ing; 

Ever  counting  on  bright  to-morrows, 
And  knowing  nought  of  unspoken  sorrows. 

Such  would  I  be, 
A  sparkling  cascade  of  untiring  glee.' 

1860, 

Not  so,  not  so  I 

For  longings  change  as  the  full  years  flow. 
When  I  had  but  taken  a  step  or  two 
From  the  fairy  regions  still  in  view  ; 
While  their  playful  breezes  fanned  me  still 
At  every  pause  on  the  steeper  hill, 
And  the  blossoms  showered  from    every 

shoot, 
Showered  and  fell,  and  yet  no  fruit, — 

It  was  grief  and  pain 
That  I  never  could  be  a  child  again. 
3 


Not  so,  not  so  ! 

Back  to  my  life- dawn  I  would  not  go. 
A  little  is  lost,  but  more  is  won^ 
As  the  sterner  work  of  the  day  is  done. 
We  forget  that  the  troubles  of  childish  days 
Were  once  gigantic  in  morning  haze. 
There  is  less  of  fancy,  but  more  of  truth, 
For  we  lose  the  mists  with  the  dew   of 
youth ; 

And  a  rose  is  born 
On  many  a  spray  which  seemed  only  thorn. 

Not  so,  not  so  ! 

While  the  years  of  childhood  glided  slow, 
There  was  all  to  receive  and  nothing  to 

give  : 

Is  it  not  better  for  others  to  live  ? 
And  happier  far  than  merriest  games 
Is  the  joy  of  our  new  and  nobler  aims  : 
Then  fair  fresh  flowers,  now  lasting  gems  ; 
Then  wreaths  for  a  day,  but  now  diadems, 

For  ever  to  shine, 
Bright  in  the  radiance  of  Love  Divine. 

Not  so,  not  so  ! 

I  would  not  again  be  a  child,  I  know  ! 
But  were  it  not  pleasant  again  to  stand 
On  the  border-line  of  that  fairy  land, — 
Feeling  so  buoyant  and  blithe  and  strong, 
Fearing  no  slip  as  we  bound  along, 
Halting  at  will  in  the  sunshine  to  bask, 
Deeming  the  journey  an  easy  task, 

While  Courage  and  Hope 
Smooth  with  'Come,  see,  and  conquer' 
each  emerald  slope  ? 

Not  so,  not  so  ! 

Less  leaping  flame,  but  a  deeper  glow  ! 
There  is  more  of  sorrow,  but  more  of  joy, 
Less  glittering  ore,  but  less  alloy  ; 
There  is  more  of  pain,  but  more  of  balm, 
And  less  of  pleasure,  but  more  of  calm  ; 


34 


THE   MINISTRY   OF   SONG. 


Many  a  hope  all  spent  and  dead, 

But  higher  and  brighter  hopes  instead  ; 

Less  risked,  more  won  ; 
Less  planned  and  dreamed,  but  perhaps 

more  done. 

Not  so,  not  so  ! 

Not  in  stature  and  learning  alone  we  grow. 
Though  we  no  more  look  from  year  to 

year 

For  power  of  mind  more  strong  and  clear, 
Though  the  table-land  of  life  we  tread, 
No  widening  view  before  we  spread, 
No  sunlit  summits  to  lure  ambition, 
But  only  the  path  of  a  daily  mission, 

We  would  not  turn 
Where  the  will-o'-the-wisps  of  our  young 

dreams  burn. 

Then  be  it  so  ! 

For  in  better  things  we  yet  may  grow. 
Onward  and  upward  still  our  way, 
With  the  joy  of  progress  from  day  to  day  ; 
Nearer  and  nearer  every  year 
To  the  visions  and  hopes  most  true  and 

dear  ; 

Children  still  of  a  Father's  love, 
Children  still  of  a  home  above  ! 

Thus  we  look  back, 
Without  a  sigh,  o'er  the  lengthening  track. 


MISUNDERSTOOD. 

1  PEOPLE  do  not  understand  me, 
Their  ideas  are  not  like  mine  ; 

All  advances  seem  to  land  me 
Still  outside  their  guarded  shrine. ' 

So  you  turn  from  simple  joyance, 
Losing  many  a  mutual  good, 

Weary  with  the  chill  annoyance 
So  to  be  misunderstood. 


Let  me  try  to  lift  the  curtain 
Hiding  other  hearts  from  view; 

You  complain,  but  are  you  certain 
That  the  fault  is  not  with  you  ? 

In  the  sunny  summer  hours, 

Sitting  in  your  quiet  room, 
Can  you  wonder  if  the  flowers 

Breathe  for  you  no  sweet  perfume  ? 

True,  you  see  them  bright  and  pearly 

With  the  jewelry  of  morn  ; 
But  their  fragrance  fresh  and  early, 

Is  not  through  your  window  borne. 

You  must  go  to  them,  and  stooping, 
Cull  the  blossoms  where  they  live  ; 

On  your  bosom  gently  drooping, 
All  their  treasure  they  will  give. 

Who  would  guess  what  fragrance  lingers 
In  verbena's  pale  green  show  ! 

Press  the  leaflet  in  your  fingers, 
All  its  sweetness  you  will  know. 

Few  the  harps  ^Eolian,  sending 
Unsought  music  on  the  wind  : 

Else  must  love  and  skill  be  blending 
Music's  full  response  to  find. 

'  But  my  key-note, '  are  you  thinking, 
'  Will  not  modulate  to  theirs  ?' 

Seek  !  and  subtle  chords  enlinking, 
Soon  shall  blend  the  differing  airs. 

Fairly  sought,  some  point  of  contact 
There  must  be  with  every  mind  ; 

And,  perchance,  the  closest  compact 
Where  we  least  expect  to  find. 

Perhaps  the  heart  you  meet  so  coldly 
Burns  with  deepest  lava-glow  ; 

Wisely  pierce  the  crust,  and  boldly, 
And  a  fervid  stream  shall  flow. 


OH  !  TO  RAISE  A  MIGHTY  SHOUT, 
AtfD  BID  THE  SLEEPERS  ALL  COME  OUT  ! 
NO  DREAMER'S  FANCY  FAIR  AND  HIGH, 
COULD  IMAGE  FORTH  A  GRANDER  SKY. 


Page  35. 


THE   STAR   SHOWER. 


35 


Dialects  of  love  are  many, 

Though  the  language  be  but  one  ; 
Study  all  you  can,  or  any, 

While  life's  precious  school-hours  run. 

Closed  the  heart-door  of  thy  brother, 
All  its  treasure  long  concealed  ? 

One  key  fails,  then  try  another, 
Soon  the  rusty  lock  shall  yield. 

Few  have  not  some  hidden  trial, 
And  could  sympathize  with  thine  ; 

Do  not  take  it  as  denial 

That  you  see  no  outward  sign. 

Silence  is  no  certain  token, 
That  no  secret  grief  is  there  ; 

Sorrow  which  is  never  spoken 
Is  the  heaviest  load  to  bear. 

Seldom  can  the  heart  be  lonely, 

If  it  seek  a  lonelier  still, 
Self-forgetting,  seeking  only 

Emptier  cups  of  love  to  fill. 

Twill  not  be  a  fruitless  labor, 
Overcome  this  ill  with  good ; 

Try  to  understand  your  neighbor, 
And  you  will  be  understood. 


SUNBEAMS  IN  THE  WOOD. 

MARK  ye  not  the  sunbeams  glancing 
Through  the  cool  green  shade, 

On  the  waving  fern-leaves  dancing, 
In  the  quiet  glade  ? 

See  you  how  they  change  and  quiver 
Where  the  broad  oaks  rise, 

Rippling  like  a  golden  river 
From  their  fountain  skies  ? 


On  the  gray  old  timber  resting 

Like  a  sleeping  dove, 
Like  a  fairy  grandchild  nestling 

In  an  old  man's  love. 

On  the  dusty  pathway  tracing 
Arabesques  with  golden  style  ; 

Light  and  shadow  interlacing, 
Like  a  tearful  smile. 

Many  a  hidden  leaf  revealing, 

Many  an  unseen  flower  ; 
Like  a  maiden  lightly  stealing 

Past  each  secret  bower. 

Oh  !  how  beautiful  they  make  it 

Everywhere  they  fall ; 
Sunbeams  !  why  will  ye  forsake  it 

At  pale  Evening's  call  ? 

In  the  arching  thickets  linger, 

In  the  woodland  aisle, 
uilding  them  with  trembling  finger, 

Yet  a  little  while. 

Then,  your  last  calm  radiance  pouring, 

Bid  the  earth  good-night ; 
Like  a  sainted  spirit  soaring 

To  a  home  of  light. 


THE  STAR  SHOWER. 

NOVEMBER    14,    l866. 

OH  !  to  raise  a  mighty  shout, 
And  bid  the  sleepers  all  come  out  I 
So  dreamer's  fancy  fair  and  high, 

tould  image  forth  a  grander  sky. 
And  oh,  for  eyes  of  swifter  power 

!V>  follow  fast  the  starry  shower ! 
Oh  for  a  sweep  of  vision  clear 

"o  grasp  at  once  a  hemisphere  I 


THE   MINISTRY  OF   SONG. 


The  solemn  old  chorale  of  Night, 

With  fullest  chords  of  awful  might, 

Re-echoes  still  in  stately  march 

Throughout  the  glowing  heavenly  arch 

But  harmonies  all  new  and  rare 

Are  intermingling  everywhere, 

Fantastic,  fitful,  fresh,  and  free  ; 

A  sparkling  wealth  of  melody, 

A  carol  of  sublimest  glee, 

Is  bursting  from  the  starry  chorus, 

In  dazzling  exultation  o'er  us. 

O  wondrous  sight !  so  swift,  so  bright, 

Like  sudden  thrills  of  strange  delight ; 

As  if  the  stars  were  all  at  play, 

And  kept  ecstatic  holiday  : 

As  if  it  were  a  jubilee 

Of  glad  millenniums  fully  told, 

Or  universal  sympathy 

With  some  new  dawning  age  of  gold. 

Flashing  from  the  lordly  Lion, 
Flaming  under  bright  Procyon, 
From  the  farthest  east  up-ranging, 
Past  the  blessed  orb  1  unchanging  ; 
Ursa's  brilliance  far  out-gleaming, 
From  the  very  zenith  streaming ; 
Rushing/  as  in  joy  delirious, 
To  the  pure  white  ray  of  Sirius  ; 
Past  Orion's  belted  splendor, 
Past  Capella,  clear  and  tender  ; 
Lightening  dusky  Polar  regions, 
Brightening  pale  encircling  legions  ; 
Lines  of  fiery  glitter  tracing, 
Parting,  meeting,  interlacing  ; 
Paling  every  constellation 
With  their  radiant  revelation  ! 
All  we  heard  of  meteor  glory 
Is  a  true  and  sober  story  ; 

i « That  admirable  Polar  Star,  which  is  a  bless- 
ing to  astronomers.' — Professor  Airy's  Popular 
Lectures  on  Astronomy. 


Who  will  not  for  life  remember 
This  night  grandeur  of  November  ? 


Tis  over  now,  the  once  seen,  dream-like 

sight ! 
With  gradual  hand  the  clear  and  breezy 

dawn 

Hath  o'er  the  marvels  of  the  meteor  night 
A.  veil  of  light  impenetrable  drawn. 
A.nd  earth  is  sweeping  on  through  starless 

space, 
Nor  may  we  once  look  back,  the  shining 

field  to  trace. 

Ere  next  the  glittering  stranger-throng  we 

meet, 

How  many  a  star  of  life  will  seek  the  west ! 
Our  century's  dying  pulse  will  faintly  beat ; 
The  toilers  of  to-day  will  be  at  rest ; 
And  little  ones,  who  now  but  laugh  and 

play, 
Will  weary  in  the  heat  and  burden  of  the 

day. 

Oh,  is  there  nothing  beautiful  and  glad 
But  bears  a  message  of  decay  and  change  ? 
So  be  it !     Though  we  call  it  stern  and 

sad, 
Viewed  by  the  torch   of  Love,  it  is  not 

strange. 

'Tis  mercy  that  in  Nature's  every  strain 
Deep  warning  tones  peal  out  in  solemn 

sweet  refrain. 

And  have  not  all  created  things  a  voice 
For   those  who  listen    farther, — whispers 

low 

To  bid  the  children  of  the  light  rejoice 
In  burning  hopes  they  yet  but  dimly  know? 
What  will  it  be,  all  earthly  darkness  o'er, 
To  shine  as  stars  of  God  for  ever — ever- 
more ! 


COMING  SUMMER. 


37 


TREASURE  TROVE. 

I  PLAYED  with  the  whispering  rushes, 

By  a  river  of  reverie, 
Flowing  so  quietly  onward 

Into  an  unknown  sea. 

And  I  watched  the  dreamy  current, 

Till  to  my  feet  it  brought, 
Glistening  among  the  pebbles, 

The  pearl  of  a  fair  new  thought. 

New  !  yet  many  another, 

Leaning  over  the  stream, 
May  have  welcomed  its  sudden  shining 

And  gazed  on  its  gentle  gleam. 

Long  it  must  have  been  lying, 

Yet  it  is  new  to  me. 
Oh  the  treasures  around  us, 

If  we  could  only  see  ! 

I  have  broken  the  smooth  dark  water 
Into  ripples  and  circles  bright, 

Lifting  my  pearl  from  the  pebbles, 
Bearing  away  its  light. 

I  am  so  glad  to  have  found  it ! 

I  shall  treasure  it  safely  a  while, 
It  will  brighten  the  niche  that  is  darkest 

In  my  spirit's  loneliest  aisle. 

And  then,  it  may  be  a  dear  one 
Will  wear  it,  a  long,  long  time, 

Fastened  firm  on  her  bosom, 
In  a  setting  of  silver  rhyme. 


COMING  SUMMER. 

WHAT  will  the  summer  bring  ? 

Sunshine  and  flowers, 
Brightness  and  melody, 

Golden-voiced  hours  ; 


Rose-gleaming  mornings 

Vocal  with  praise  ; 
Crimson-flushed  evenings, 

Nightingale  lays. 

What  may  the  summer  bring? 

Gladness  and  mirth, 
Laughter  and  song, 

For  the  children  of  earth  ; 
Smiles  for  the  old  man, 

Joy  for  the  strong, 
Glee  for  the  little  ones 

All  the  day  long. 

What  will  the  summer  bring  ? 

Coolness  and  shade, 
Eloquent  stillness 

In  thicket  and  glade ; 
Whispering  breezes, 

Fragrance  oppressed ; 
Lingering  twilight 

Soothing  to  rest 

What  may  the  summer  bring  ? 

Freshness  and  calm 
To  the  care-worn  and  troubled, 

Beauty  and  balm. 
O  toil-weary  spirit, 

Rest  thee  anew, 
For  the  heat  of  the  world-race 

Summer  hath  dew  !  • 

What  will  the  summer  bring? 

Sultry  noon  hours, 
Lurid  horizons, 

Frowning  cloud-towers  ! 
Loud-crashing  thunders, 

Tempest  and  hail, 
Death-bearing  lightnings, 

It  brings  without  fail. 

What  may  the  summer  bring  ? 
Dimness  and  woe, 


THE   MINISTRY   OF   SONG. 


Blackness  of  sorrow 

Its  bright  days  may  know  ; 
Flowers  may  be  wormwood, 

Verdure  a  pall, 
The  shadow  of  death 

On  the  fairest  may  fall. 

Is  it  not  ever  so  ? 

Where  shall  we  find 
Light  that  may  cast 

No  shadow  behind  ? 
Calm  that  no  tempest 

May  darkly  await  ? 
Joy  that  no  sorrow 

May  swiftly  abate  ? 

Will  the  story  of  summer 

Be  written  in  light, 
Or  traced  in  the  darkness 

Of  storm-cloud  and  night  ? 
We  know  not — we  would  not  know 

Why  should  we  quail  ? 
Summer,  we  welcome  thee  ! 

Summer,  all  hail  ! 


SEPTEMBER,  1868. 

AN  April  burst  of  beauty, 

And  a  May  like  the  Mays  of  old, 
And  a  glow  of  summer  gladness 

While  June  her  long  days  told  ; 
And  a  hush  of  golden  silence 

All  through  the  bright  July, 
Without  one  peal  of  thunder, 

Or  a  storm-wreath  in  the  sky  ; 
And  a  fiery  reign  of  August, 

Till  the  moon  was  on  the  wane  ; 
And  then  short  clouded  evenings, 

And  a  long  and  chilling  rain. 
I  thought  the  summer  was  over, 

And  the  whole  year's  glory  spent, 


And  that  nothing  but  fog  and  drizzle 
Could  be  for  Autumn  meant ; — 

Nothing  but  dead  leaves,  falling 
Wet  on  the  dark,  damp  mould, 

Less  and  less  of  the  sunshine, 
More  and  more  of  the  cold. 

But  oh !  the  golden  day-time  ; 

And  oh  !  the  silver  nights  ; 
And  the  scarlet  touch  on  the  fir  trunks 

Of  the  calm,  grand  sunset  lights  ; 
And  the  morning's  bright  revealings, 

Lifting  the  pearly  mist, 
Like  a  bridal  veil,  from  the  valley 

That  the  sun  hath  claimed  and  kissed ; 
And  oh  !  the  noontide  shadows 

Longer  and  longer  now, 
On  the  river  margin  resting, 

Like  the  tress  on  a  thoughtful  brow. 
Rich  fruitage  bends  the  branches 

With  amber,  and  rose,  and  gold, 
O'er  the  purple  and  crimson  asters, 

And  geraniums  gay  and  bold. 

The  day  is  warm  and  glowing, 

But  the  night  is  cool  and  sweet, 
And  we  fear  no  smiting  arrows 

Of  fierce  and  fatal  heat. 
The  leaves  are  only  dropping, 

Like  flakes  of  a  sunset  cloud, 
And  the  robin's  song  is  clearer 

Than  Spring's  own  minstrel-crowd. 
A  soft  new  robe  of  greenness 

Decks  every  sunny  mead, 
And  we  own  that  bright  September 

Is  beautiful  indeed. 

Is  thy  lite-summer  passing  ? 

Think  not  Thy  joys  are  o'er  ! 
Thou  hast  not  seen  what  Autumn 

For  thee  may  have  in  store. 


OUR   FATHER. 


39 


Calmer  than  breezy  April, 

Cooler  than  August  blaze, 
The  fairest  time  of  all  may  be 

September's  golden  days. 
Press  on,  though  summer  waneth, 

And  falter  not,  nor  fear, 
For  God  can  make  the  Autumn 

The  glory  of  the  year. 


EARLY  FAITH. 

WHOM  hear  we  tell  of  all  the  joy  which 

loving  Faith  can  bring, 
The  ever  widening  glories  reached  on  her 

strong  seraph  wing  ? 
Is   it  not    oftenest   they   who  long  have 

wrestled  with  temptation, 
Or  passed  through  fiery  baptisms  of  mighty 

tribulation  ? 

Perhaps,  in  life's  great  tapestry,  the  darkest 

scenes  are  where 
The  golden  threads  of  Faith  glance  forth 

most  radiant  and  fair  ; 
And  gazing  on  the  coming  years,  which 

unknown  griefs  may  bring, 
We  hail  the  lamp  which   o'er  them   all 

shall  heavenly  lustre  fling. 

Thank  God  !  there  is  at  eventide  a  gleam 

of  ruby  light, 
A  star  of  love  amid  the  gloom  of  sorrow's 

lingering  night, 
An  ivy-wreath  upon  the  tomb,  a  haven  in 

the  blast, 
A  staff  for  weary,  trembling  ones,  when 

youth  and  health  are  past. 

But  shall  we  seek  the  diamonds  in  the  lone 

and  dusky  mine, 
When  'mid  the  sunny  sands  of  youth  they 

wait  to  flash  and  shine  ? 


Neglect  the  fountain  of  Christ's    joy  till 

woe-streams  darkly  flow, 
Nor  seek  a  Father's  smile  until  the  world's 

cold  frown  we  know  ? 

Nay  1  be  our  faith  the  rosy  crown  on 
morn's  unwrinkled  brow, 

The  sparkling  dewdrop  on  the  grass,  the 
blossom  on  the  bough  ; 

The  gleam  of  pearly  light  within  the  snowy- 
bosomed  shell ; 

An  added  power  of  loveliness  in  beauty's 
every  spell. 

Oh,  let  it  be  the  sunlight  of  the  pleasant 
summer  hours, 

That  calls  to  pure  and  radiant  birth  un- 
numbered fragrant  flowers ; 

That  bathes  in  golden  joyance  every 
anthem-murmuring  tree, 

And  spreads  a  robe  of  glory  o'er  the  silver- 
crested  sea. 

Oh,  let  it  be  the  key-note  of  the  symphony 

of  gladness, 
Which  wots  not  of  the  broken  lyre,  the 

requiem  of  sadness  : 
For  they  who  melodies  of  heaven  in  hours 

of  brightness  know, 
Will  modulate  sweet  harmony  from  earth's 

discordant  woe. 


OUR    FATHER. 

4  OH  that  I  loved  the  Father 

With  depth  of  conscious  love, 
As  steadfast,  bright  and  burning, 

As  seraphim  above  ! 
But  how  can  I  be  deeming 

Myself  a  loving  child, 
When  here,  and  there,  and  everywhere, 

My  thoughts  are  wandering  wild  ? 


THE   MINISTRY   OF   SONG. 


'  It  is  my  chief  desire 

To  know  Him  more  and  more, 
To  follow  Him  more  fully 

Than  I  have  done  before  : 
My  eyes  are  dim  with  longing 

To  see  the  Lord  above ; 
But  oh  !  I  fear  from  year  to  year, 

I  do  not  truly  love. 

'  For  when  I  try  to  follow 

The  mazes  of  my  soul, 
I  find  no  settled  fire  of  love 

Illumining  the  whole ; 
'Tis  all  uncertain  twilight, 

No  clear  and  vivid  glow  : 
Would  I  could  bring  to  God  my  King 

The  perfect  love  I  owe  T 

The  gift  is  great  and  holy, 

'Twill  not  be  sought  in  vain ; 
But  look  up  for  a  moment 

From  present  doubt  and  pain, 
And  calmly  tell  me  how  you  love 

The  dearest  ones  below  ? 
1  This  love, '  say  you,  '  is  deep  and  true !' 

But  tell  me  how  you  know  ? 

How  do  you  love  your  father  ? 

'  Oh,  in  a  thousand  ways  ! 
I  think  there's  no  one  like  him, 

So  worthy  of  my  praise. 
I  tell  him  all  my  troubles, 

And  ask  him  what  to  do ; 
I  know  that  he  will  give  to  me 

His  counsel  kind  and  true. 

'  Then  every  little  service 

Of  hand,  or  pen,  or  voice, 
Becomes,  if  he  has  asked  it. 

The  service  of  my  choice. 
And  from  my  own  desires 

Tis  not  so  hard  to  part, 


If  once  I  know  I  follow  so 
His  wiser  will  and  heart. 

'  I  know  the  flush  of  pleasure 

That  o'er  my  spirit  came, 
When  far  from  home  with  strangers, 

They  caught  my  father's  name  ; 
And  for  his  sake  the  greeting 

Was  mutual  and  sweet, 
For  if  they  knew  my  father  too, 

How  glad  we  were  to  meet ! 

'  And  when  I  heard  them  praising 

His  music  and  his  skill, 
His  words  of  holy  teaching, 

Life-preaching,  holier  still, 
How  eagerly  I  listened 

To  every  word  that  fell ! 
'Twas  joy  to  hear  that  name  so  dear 

Both  known  and  loved  so  well. 

1  Once  I  was  ill  and  suffering 

Upon  a  foreign  shore, 
And  longed  to  see  my  father, 

As  I  never  longed  before, 
He  came  :  his  arm  around  me  ; 

I  leant  upon  his  breast : 
I  did  not  long  to  feel  more  strong, 

So  sweet  that  childlike  rest. 

'  The  thought  of  home  is  pleasant, 

Yet  I  should  hardly  care 
To  leave  my  present  fair  abode, 

Unless  I  knew  him  there. 
All  other  love  and  pleasure 

Can  never  crown  the  place, 
A  home  to  me  it  cannot  be 

Without  my  father's  face.' 

This  is  no  fancy  drawing, 

But  every  line  is  true, 
And  you  have  traced  as  strong  a  love 

As  ever  daughter  knew. 


DISAPPOINTMENT. 


But  though  its  fond  expression 

Is  rather  lived  than  told, 
You  do  not  say  from  day  to  day, 

'  I  fear  my  love  is  cold  !' 

You  do  not  think  about  it  ; 

Tis  never  in  your  thought — 
'  I  wonder  if  I  love  him 

As  deeply  as  I  ought  ? 
I  know  his  approbation 

Outweighs  all  Other  meed, 
That  his  employ  is  always  joy, 

But  do  I  love  indeed  ?' 

Now  let  your  own  words  teach  you 

The  higher,   holier  claim 
Of  Him  who  condescends  to  bear 

A  Father's  gracious  name. 
No  mystic  inspiration, 

No  throbbings  forced  and  wild, 
He  asks,  but  just  the  loving  trupt 

Of  a  glad  and  grateful  child. 

The  rare  and  precious  moments 

Of  realizing  thrill 
Are  but  love's  blissful  blossom, 

To  brighten,  not  to  fill 
The  storehouse  and  the  garner 

With  ripe  and  pleasant  fruit ; 
A.nd  not  alone  by  thee  is  shown. 

The  true  and  holy  root. 

What  if  your  own  dear  father 

Were  summoned  to  his  rest ! 
One  lives,  by  whom  that  bitterest  grief 

Could  well  be  soothed  and  blessed. 
Like  balm  upon  your  sharpest  woe 

His  still  small  voice  would  fall  ; 
His  touch  would  heal,  you  could  not  feel 

That  you  had  lost  your  all. 


But  what  if  He,  the  Lord  of  life, 

Could  ever  pass  away  ! 
What  if  His  name  were  blotted  put 

And  you  could  know  to-day 
There  was  no  heavenly  Father, 

No  Saviour  dear  and  true, 
No  throne  of  grace,  no  resting-place, 

No  living  God  for  you  ! 

We  need  not  dwell  in  horror 

On  what  can  never  be, 
Such  endless  desolation, 

Such  undreamt  misery. 
Our  reason  could  not  bear  it, 

And  all  the  love  of  earth, 
In  fullest  bliss,  compared  with  this, 

Were  nothing,  nothing  worth  1 

Then  bring  your  poor  affection, 

And  try  it  by  this  test  ; 
The  hidden  depth  is  fathomed, 

You  see  you  love  Him  best! 
'Tis  but  a  feeble  echo 

Of  His  great  love  to  you, 
Yet  in  His  ear  each  note  is  dear, 

Its  harmony  is  true. 

It  is  an  uncut  jewel, 

All  earth-encrusted  now, 
But  He  will  make  it  glorious, 

And  set  it  on  His  brow  : 
'Tis  but  a  tiny  glimmer, 

Lit  from  the  light  above, 
But  it  shall  blaze  through  endless  days, 

A  star  of  perfect  love. 


DISAPPOINTMENT. 

OUR  yet  unfinished  story 
Is  tending  all  to  this  : 

To  God  the  greatest  glory, 
To  us  the  greatest  bliss. 


THE  MINISTRY   OF  SONG. 


If  all  things  work  together 
For  ends  so  grand  and  blest, 

What  need  to  wonder  whether 
Each  in  itself  is  best ! 

If  some  things  were  omitted 

Or  altered  as  we  would, 
The  whole  might  be  unfitted 

To  work  for  perfect  good. 

Our  plans  may  be  disjointed, 

But  we  may  calmly  rest ; 
What  God  has  once  appointed 

Is  better  than  our  best. 

We  cannot  see  before  us, 

But  our  all-seeing  Friend 
Is  always  watching  o'er  us, 

And  knows  the  very  end. 

What  though  we  seem  to  stumble  ? 

He  will  not  let  us  fall ; 
And  learning  to  be  humble 

Is  not  lost  time  at  all. 

What  though  we  fondly  reckoned 

A  smoother  way  to  go 
Than  where  His  hand  has  beckoned  ? 

It  will  be  better  so. 

What  only  seemed  a  barrier, 
A  stepping-stone  shall  be  ; 

Our  God  is  no  long  tarrier, 
A  present  help  is  He. 

And  when  amid  our  blindness 

His  disappointments  fall, 
We  trust  His  loving-kindness 

Whose  wisdom  sends  them  all. 

They  are  the  purple  fringes 
That  hide  his  glorious  feet ; 


They  are  the  fire-wrought  hinges 
Where  truth  and  mercy  meet ; 

By  them  the  golden  portal 
Of  Providence  shall  ope, 

And  lift  to  praise  immortal 
The  songs  of  faith  and  hope. 

From  broken  alabaster 

Was  deathless  fragrance  shed, 
The  spikenard  flowed  the  faster 

Upon  the  Saviour's  head. 

No  shattered  box  of  ointment 

We  ever  need  regret, 
For  out  of  disappointment 

Flows  sweetest  odors  yet. 

The  discord  that  involveth 
Some  startling  change  of  key, 

The  Master's  hand  resolveth 
In  richest  harmony. 

We  hush  our  children's  laughter, 
When  sunset  hues  grow  pale ; 

Then,  in  the  silence  after, 
They  hear  the  nightingale. 

We  mourned  the  lamp  declining, 
That  glimmered  at  our  side  ; — 

The  glorious  starlight  shining 
Has  proved  a  surer  guide. 

Then  tremble  not  and  shrink  not 
When  Disappointment  nears  ; 

Be  trustful  still,  and  think  not 
To  realize  all  fears. 

While  we  are  meekly  kneeling, 
We  shall  behold  her  rise, 

Our  Father's  love  revealing, 
An  angel  in  disguise. 


LIGHT  AND   SHADE. 
THE  SONG  CHALICE. 


43 


'You  bear  the  chalice/     Is  it  so,   my 

friend  ? 

Have  I  indeed  a  chalice  of  sweet  song, 
With  underflow  of  harmony  made  strong, 
New  calm  of  strength  through  throbbing 

veins  to  send  ? 

I  did  not  form  or  fill,— I  do  but  spend 
That  which  the  Master  poured  into  my 

soul, 
His  dewdrops  caught  in  a  poor  earthen 

bowl. 
That  service  so  with  praise  might  meekly 

blend. 
May  He  who  taught  the  morning  stars  to 

sing, 
Aye,  keep  my  chalice  cool,  and  pure, 

and  sweet, 
And   grant  me  so  with  loving    hand    to 

bring 
Refreshment  to   His   weary    ones, — to 

meet 

Their  thirst  with  water  from  God's  music- 
spring; 

And,  bearing  thus,  to  pour  it  at  His 
feet. 


SILENT  IN  LOVE. 

'HE   WILL   REST1    IN   HIS   LOVE.' 

LOVE  culminates  in  bliss  when    it   doth 

reach 
A  white,  unflickering,  fear-consuming 

glow  ; 
And,  knowing  it  is  known  as  it  doth 

know, 

Needs    no    assuring   word    or   soothing 
speech. 


1  Marginal  reading — ' be  silent, .' 


It  craves  but  silent  nearness,  so  to  rest, 
No   sound,    no    movement,    love   not 

heard  but  felt, 
Longer  and  longer  still,  till  time  "should 

melt, 

A  snow-flake  on  the  eternal  ocean's  breast. 
Have  moments  of  this  silence  starred 

thy  past, 

Made  memory  a  glory-haunted  place, 
Taught  all  the  joy   that  mortal  ken  can 

trace  ? 

By  greater  light  'tis  but  a  shadow  cast ; — 
So   shall  the  Lord  thy  God  rejoice   o'er 

thee, 
And  in  His  love  will  rest,  and  silent  be. 


LIGHT  AND  SHADE. 

LIGHT  !  emblem  of  all  good  and  joy  ! 

Shade  !  emblem  of  all  ill ! 
And  yet  in  this  strange  mingled  life, 

We  need  the  shadow  still. 
A  lamp  with  softly  shaded  light, 
To  soothe  and  spare  the  tender  sight, 
Will  only  throw 
A  brighter  glow 
Upon  our  books  and  work  below. 

We  could  not  bear  unchanging  day, 

However  fair  its  light  ; 
Ere  long  the  wearied  eye  would  hail, 
As  boon  untold,  the  evening  pale, 

The  solace  of  the  night. 
And  who  would  prize  our  summer  glow 
If  winter  gloom  we  did  not  know  ? 
Or  rightly  praise 
The  glad  spring  rays 
Who  never  saw  our  rainy  days  ? 

How  grateful  in  Arabian  plain 
Of  white  and  sparkling  sand, 


44 


THE   MINISTRY   OF   SONG. 


The  shadow  of  a  mighty  rock 

Across  the  weary  land  ! 
And  where  the  tropic  glories  rise, 
Responsive  to  the  fiery  skies, 

We  could  not  dare 

To  meet  the  glare, 
Or  blindness  were  our  bitter  share. 

Where  is  the  soul  so  meek  and  pure 

Who  through  his  earthly  days 
Life's  fullest  sunshine  could  endure, 

In  clear  and  cloudless  blaze  ! 
The  sympathetic  eye  would  dim, 
And  others  pine  unmarked  by  him, 
Were  no  chill  shade 
Around  him  laid, 
And  light  of  joy  could  never  fade, 

He,  who  the  light-commanding  word 

Erst  spake,  and  formed  the  eye, 
Knows  what  that  wondrous  eye  can  bear, 
And  tempers  with  providing  care, 
By  cloud  and  night,  all  hurtful  glare, 

By  shadows  ever  nigh. 
So  in  all  wise  and  loving  ways 
He  blends  the  shadows  of  our  days, 
To  win  our  sight 
From  scenes  of  night, 
To  seek  the  '  True  and  Only  Light' 

We  need  some  shadow  o'er  our  bliss, 

Lest  we  forget  the  Giver  : 
So,  often  in  our  deepest  joy 

There  comes  a  solemn  quiver  ; 
We  could  not  tell  from  whence  it  came, 
The  subtle  cause  we  cannot  name  ; 
Its  twilight  fall 
May  well  recall 
Calm  thought  of  Him  who  gave  us  all. 

There  are  who  all  undazzled  tread 
Awhile  the  sunniest  plain  ; 


But  they  have  sought  the  blessed  shade 
By  one  great  Rock  of  Ages  made, 

A  sure,  safe  rest  to  gain. 
Unshaded  light  of  earth  soon  blinds 
To  light  of  heaven  sincerest  minds  ; 

O  envy  not 

A  cloudless  lot ! 
We  ask  indeed  we  know  not  what. 

So  is  it  here,  so  is  it  now  ! 

Not  always  will  it  be  ! 
There  is  a  land  that  needs  no  shade, 
A  morn  will  rise  which  cannot  fade, 
And  we,  like  flame-robed  angels  made, 

That  glory  soon  may  see. 
No  cloud  upon  its  radiant  joy, 
No  shadow  o'er  its  bright  employ, 
No  sleep,  no  night, 
But  perfect  sight, 
The  Lord  our  Everlasting  Light. 


NO  THORN   WITHOUT  A    ROSE. 

1  THERE  is  no  rose  without  a  thorn  !' 
Who  has  not  found  this  true, 

And  known  that  griefs  of  gladness  bom 
Our  footsteps  still  pursue? 

That  in  the  grandest  harmony 

The  strangest  discords  rise  ; 
The  brightest  bow  we  only  trace 

Upon  the  darkest  skies  ! 

No  thornless  rose  !     So  more  and  more, 

Our  pleasant  hopes  are  laid 
Where  waves  this  sable  legend  o'er 

A  still  sepulchral  shade. 

But  Faith  and  Love,  with  angel-might, 

Break  up  life's  dismal  tomb, 
Transmuting  into  golden  light 

The  words  of  leaden  gloom. 


THY    CLAIM   TO    KEST   ON  JESUS     BREAST 

ALL   WEARINESS   SHALL    BE, 
AND    PAIN   THY   PORTAL   TO   HIS   HEART 

OF    BOUNDLESS  SYMPATHY. 


Page  45. 


YESTERDAY,   TO-DAY   AND    FOREVER. 


45 


Reversing  all  this  funeral  pall, 

White  raiment  they  disclose  ; 
Their  happy  song  floats  full  and  long, 

'  No  thorn  without  a  rose  ! 

*  No  shadow,  but  its  sister  light 

Not  far  away  must  burn  ! 
No  weary  night,  but  morning  bright 

Shall  follow  in  its  turn. 

'  No  chilly  snow,  but  safe  below 
A  million  buds  are  sleeping  ; 

No  wintry  days,  but  fair  spring  rays 
Are  swiftly  onward  sweeping. 

'  With  fiercest  glare  of  summer  air 

Comes  fullest  leafy  shade  ; 
And  ruddy  fruit  bends  every  shoot, 

Because  the  blossoms  fade. 

'  No  note  of  sorrow  but  shall  melt 
In  sweetest  chord  unguessed  ; 

No  labor  all  too  pressing  felt, 
But  ends  in  quiet  rest. 

'  No  sigh  but  from  the  harps  above 
Soft  echoing  tones  shall  win  ; 

No  heart-wound  but  the  Lord  of  Love 
Shall  pour  His  comfort  in. 

'  No  withered  hope,  while  loving  best 

Thy  Father's  chosen  way  ; 
No  anxious  care,  for  He  will  bear 

Thy  burdens  every  day. 

'  Thy  claim  to  rest  on  Jesu's  breast 

All  weariness  shall  be, 
And  pain  thy  portal  to  His  heart 

Of  boundless  sympathy. 

'  No  conflict,  but  the  King's  own  hand 
Shall  end  the  glorious  strife  ; 

No  death,  but  leads  thee  to  the  land 
Of  everlasting  life. ' 


Sweet  seraph  voices,  Faith  and  Love  ! 

Sing  on  within  our  hearts 
This  strain  of  music  from  above. 

Till  we  have  learnt  our  parts  : 

Until  we  see  your  alchemy 

On  all  that  years  disclose, 
And,  taught  by  you,  still  find  it  true, 

*  No  thorn  without  a  rose  !' 


YESTERDAY,  TO-DAY  AND  FOR- 
EVER. 

A   GREEK  ACROSTIC,    THRICE    TRIPLED. 

Aei.1 

A  H  !  the  weary  cares  and  fears, 
E  arnest  yearnings  through  the  years  J 
I  s  it  not  a  vale  of  tears  ? 

Ah!  the  love  we  gladly  greet 
E  ver  now  is  incomplete  ; 
I  f  the  melody  be  sweet, 

A  nd  the  harmony  be  true, 
E  arlier  loss  is  more  in  view, 
I  11  forebodings  shadow  through. 

A  fter  wintry  frost  and  rime, 
E  ven  now,  the  heavenly  chime 
I  s  a  pledge  of  summer  time. 

A  nchorage  within  the  veil, 
E  ver  steadfast,  cannot  fail, 
I  f  the  wildest  storms  assail. 

A  ngel  songs  of  love  are  clearer, 
E  arth  is  brighter,  death  is  dearer, 
I  f  the  heavenly  home  be  nearer. 

A  11  in  perfect  union  brought, 

E  very  link  which  God  has  wrought 

I  n  the  chains  of  loving  thought : 


1  For  ever. 


THE   MINISTRY   OF   SONG. 


A  11  our  dear  ones,  far  asunder, 

E  ach  shall  join  the  anthem -thunder 

I  n  our  future  joy  and  wonder. 

A  11  shall  come  where  naught  shall  sever, 
E  ndless  meeting,  parting  never, 
I  n  God's  house  to  dwell  forever. 


CHRIST'S  RECALL. 

RETURN  ! 
O  wanderer  from  My  side  ! 

Soon  droops  each  blossom  of  the  darken- 
ing wild, 

Soon  melts  each  meteor  which  thy  steps 
beguiled, 

Soon  is  the  cistern  dry  which  thou  hast 
hewn, 

And  thou  wilt  weep  in  bitterness  full  soon. 

Return  !  ere  gathering  night  shall  shroud 
the  way 

Thy  footsteps  yet  may    tread,    in    this 
accepted  day. 

Return ! 

O  erring,  yet  beloved ! 
I  wait  to  bind  thy  bleeding  feet,  for  keen 
And  rankling  are  the  thorns  where  thou 

hast  been  ; 

I  wait  to  give  thee  pardon,  love,  and  rest  ; 
Is  not  My  joy  to  see  thee  safe  and  blest  ? 
Return  !  I  wait  to  hear  once  more  thy 

voice, 
To  welcome  thee  anew,  and  bid  thy  heart 

rejoice. 

Return ! 

O  fallen,  yet  not  lost ! 
Canst  thou  forget  the  life  for  thee  laid 

down, 
The  taunts,  the  scourging,  and  the  thorny 

crown  ? 


When  o'er  thee  first  My  spotless  robe  I 

spread, 

And  poured  the  oil  of  joy  upon  thy  head, 
How  did  thy  wakening  heart  within  thee 

burn  ! 
Canst  thou  remember  all,  and  wilt  thou 

not  return  ? 


Return ! 
O  chosen  of  My  love  ! 

Fear  not  to  meet  thy  beckoning  Saviour's 
view  ; 

Long  ere  I  called  thee  by  thy  name,  I 
knew 

That  very  treacherously  thy  wouldst  deal ; 

Now  I  have  seen  thy  ways,  yet  I  will  heal. 

Return  !     Wilt  thou  yet  linger  far  from 
Me? 

My  wrath  is  turned  away,  I  have  redeem- 
ed thee. 


FAITH'S    QUESTION. 

To  whom,  O  Saviour,  shall  we  go 
For  life,  and  joy,  and  light  ? 
No  help,  no  comfort  from  below, 
No  lasting  gladness  we  may  know, 
No  hope  may  bless  our  sight. 
Our  souls  are  weary  and  athirst, 
But  earth  is  iron-bound  and  cursed, 
And  nothing  she  may  yield  can  stay 
The  restless  yearnings  day  by  day  ; 
Yet,  without  Thee,  Redeemer  blest, 
We  would  not,  if  we  could,  find  rest. 

To  whom,  O  Saviour,  shall  we  go  ? 

We  gaze  around  in  vain. 
Though  pleasure's  fairy  lute  be  strung, 
And  mirth's  enchaining  lay  be  sung, 

We  dare  not  trust  the  strain. 


I  DID  THIS  FOR  THEE!    WHAT  HAST  THOU  DONE  FOR  ME?'  47 


The  touch  of  sorrow  or  of  sin 
Hath  saddened  all,  without,  within  ; 
What  here  we  fondly  love  and  prize, 
However  beauteous  be  its  guise, 
Has  passed,  is  passing,  or  may  pass, 
Like  frost-fringe  on  the  autumn  grass. 

To  whom,  O  Saviour,  shall  we  go  ? 

Our  spirits  dimly  wait 
In  the  dungeon  of  our  mortal  frame  ; 
And  only  one  of  direful  name 
Can  force  its  sin-barred  gate. 
Our  loved  ones  can  but  greet  us  through 
The  prison  gate  from  which  we  view 
All  outward  things.     They  enter  not : 
Thou,  Thou  alone,  canst  cheer  our  lot 
O  Christ,  we  long  for  Thee  to  dwell 
Within  our  solitary  cell ! 

To  whom,  O  Saviour,  shall  we  go  ? 

Unless  Thy  voice  we  hear, 
All  tuneless  falls  the  sweetest  song, 
And  lonely  seems  the  busiest  throng 

Unless  we  feel  Thee  near. 
We  dare  not  think  what  earth  would  be, 
Thou  Heaven-Creator,  but  for  Thee  ; 
A  howling  chaos,  wild  and  dark — 
One  flood  of  horror,  while  no  ark, 
Upborne  above  the  gloom-piled  wave, 
From  one  great  death-abyss  might  save. 

To  whom,  O  Saviour,  shall  we  go  ? 

The  Tempter's  power  is  great ; 
E'en  in  our  hearts  is  evil  bound, 
And,  lurking  stealthily  around, 

Still,  for  our  souls  doth  wait 
Thou  tempted  One,  whose  suffering  heart 
In  all  our  sorrows  bore  a  part, 
Whose  life-blood  only  could  atone, 
Too  weak  are  we  to  stand  alone  ; 


And  nothing  but  Thy  shield  of  light 
Oan  guard  us  in  the  dreaded  fight 

To  whom,  O  Saviour,  shall  we~gcr? 

The  night  of  death  draws  near  ; 
Its  shadows  must  be  passed  alone, 
No  friend  can  with  our  souls  go  down 

The  untried  way  to  cheer. 
Thou  hast  the  words  of  endless  life  ; 
Thou  givest  victory  in  the  strife  ; 
Thou  only  art  the  changeless  Friend, 
On  whom  for  aye  we  may  depend  : 
In  life,  in  death,  alike  we  flee, 
O  Saviour  of  the  world,  to  THEE. 


I  DID  THIS  FOR  THEE!  WHAT 
HAST  THOU  DONE  FOR  ME  ? 

(MOTTO  PLACED  UNDER  A  PICTURE  OF  OUR 
SAVIOUR  IN  THE  STUDY  OF  A  GERMAN 

DIVINE.  ) 

I  GAVE  My  life  for  thee, 

Gal.  ii.  20. 

My  precious  blood  I  shed, 

i  Pet,  i.  19. 

That  thou  might'st  ransomed  be, 

Eph.  i.  7. 

And  quickened  from  the  dead. 

Eph.  ii.  i. 

I  gave  My  life  for  thee  ; 

Tit.  ii.  14. 

What  hast  thou  given  for  Me  ? 

John  xxi.  15-17. 


i  Tim.  i.  15. 
Isa.  liii.  3. 


I  spent  long  years  for  thee 

In  weariness  and  woe, 
That  an  eternity 

John.  xvii.  24. 

Of  joy  thou  mightest  know. 

John  xvi.  22. 

I  spent  long  years  for  thee  ; 

John  i.  10,  ii. 

Hast  thou  spent  one  for  Me  ? 

i  Pet.  iv.  «. 


My  Father's  home  of  light, 
My  rainbow-circled  throne, 


John  xvii.  5. 
Rev.  iv.  3. 


THE   MINISTRY   OF   SONG. 


I  left,  for  earthly  night, 

Phil.ii.  7. 

For  wanderings  sad  and  lone. 

Matt,  vii  20. 

I  left  it  all  for  thee  ; 

Hast  thou  left  aught  for  Me  ? 

Luke  x.  29 


I  suffered  much  for  thee, 

Isa.  liii.  5. 

More  than  thy  tongue  may  tell, 

Matt.  xxvi. 

Of  bitterest  agony, 


39- 

Luke  xxii.  44. 
Rom.  v.  9. 
i  Pet.  ii.  21-24. 

What  canst  thou  bear  for  Me  ? 

Rom.  viii,  17, 18. 


To  rescue  thee  from  hell. 
I  suffered  much  for  thee ; 


ev.  xxi.  6. 

Acts  v.  31. 


And  I  have  brought  to  thee, 

John  iv.  10,  14. 

Down  from  My  home  above, 

John  iii.  13. 

Salvation  full  and  free, 

My  pardon  and  My  love. 
Great  gifts  I  brought  to  thee  ; 

Ps.  Ixviii.  18. 

What  hast  thou  brought  to  Me? 

Rom,  xii.  i. 

Oh,  let  thy  life  be  given, 

Rom.  vi.  13. 

Thy  years  for  Him  be  spent, 

2  Cor.  v.  15. 

World-fetters  all  be  riven, 

Phil,  iii;  8. 

And  joy  with  suffering  blent ; 

i  Pet.  iv.  13-16. 

I  gave  Myself  for  thee  : 

Eph.  v.  2. 

Give  thou  thyself  to  Me! 

Prov.  xxiii.  28. 


ISAIAH  XXXIII.  17. 

THINE  eyes  shall  see  !     Yes,  thine,  who, 

blind  erewhile, 

Now  trembling  towards  the  new-found 
light  dost  flee, 


Leave  doubting,  and  look  up  with  trustful 
smile — 

Thine  eyes  shall  see  1 

Thine  eyes  shall  see  !     Not  in  some  dream 

Elysian, 

Not  in  thy  fancy,  glowing  though  it  be, 
Not  e'en  in  faith,   but  in  unveiled  vision, 
Thine  eyes  shall  see  ! 

Thine   eyes  shall  see  !      Not   on  thyself 

depend 
God's  promises,  the  faithful,  firm,  and 

free  ; 

Ere  they  shall  fail,  earth,    heaven  itself 
must  end  : 

Thine  eyes  shall  see  ! 

Thine  eyes  shall  see  !  Not  in  a  swift  glance 

cast, 

Gleaning  one  ray  to  brighten  memory, 
But  while  a  glad  eternity  shall  last, 
Thine  eyes  shall  see! 

Thine  eyes  shall  see  the  King  !     The  very 

same 

Whose  love  shone  forth  upon  the  curse- 
mi  tree, 

Who  bore  thy  guilt,  who  calleth  thee  by 
name  ; 

Thine  eyes  shall  see ! 

Thine  eyes  shall  see  the  King  /  the  mighty 

One, 
The  many-crowned,  the  Light-enrobed; 

and  He 

Shall  bid  thee  share  the  kingdom  He  hath 
won, 

Thine  eyes  shall  see  ! 

And  in  His  beauty  !  Stay  thee,  mortal  song, 

The  '  altogether  lovely '  One  must  be 
Unspeakable  in  glory,— yet  ere  long 
Thine  eyes  shall  see  1 


WAIT  PATIENTLY  FOR  HIM. 


49 


Yes  !  though  the  land  be  '  very  far '  away, 
A  step,  a  moment,  ends  the  toil   for 

thee; 

Then,  changing  grief  for  gladness,  night 
for  day, 

Thine  eyes  shall  see  ! 


GOD  THE  PROVIDER. 

1  My  God  shall  supply  all  your  need,  according  to 
His  riches  in  glory  by  Christ  Jesus.' 

WHO  shall  tell  our  untold  need, 

Deeply  felt,  though  scarcely  known  ! 
Who  the  hungering  soul  can  feed, 

Guard,  and  guide,  but  God  alone  ? 
Blessed  promise  !  while  we  see 
Earthly  friends  must  powerless  be, 
Earthly  fountains  quickly  dry  : 
'  God'  shall  all  your  need  supply. 

He  hath  said  it  1  so  we  know 

Nothing  less  can  we  receive. 
Oh  that  thankful  love  may  glow 

While  we  restfully  believe, — 
Ask  not  how,  but  trust  Him  still  ; 
Ask  not  when,  but  wait  His  will  : 
Simply  on  His  word  rely, 
God  '  shall'  all  your  need  supply. 

Through  the  whole  of  life's  long  way, 
Outward,  inward  need  we  trace  ; 

Need  arising  day  by  day, 

Patience,  wisdom,  strength,  and  grace. 

Needing  Jesus  most  of  all, 

Full  of  need,  on  Him  we  call  ; 

Then  how  gracious  His  reply, 

God  shall  '  all'  your  need  supply  ! 

Great  our  need,  but  greater  far 
Is  our  Father's  loving  power  ; 

He  upholds  each  mighty  star, 
He  unfolds  each  tiny  flower. 


He  who  numbers  every  hair, 
Earnest  of  His  faithful  care, 
Gave  His  Son  for  us  to  die  ; 
God  shall  all  'your'  need  supply.   - 

Yet  we  often  vainly  plead 

For  a  fancied  good  denied, 
What  we  deemed  a  pressing  need 

Still  remaining  unsupplied. 
Yet  from  dangers  all  concealed, 
Thus  our  wisest  Friend  doth  shield ; 
No  good  thing  will  He  deny, 
God  shall  all  your  '  need '  supply. 

Can  we  count  redemption's  treasure, 
Scan  the  glory  of  God's  love  ? 

Such  shall  be  the  boundless  measure 
Of  His  blessings  from  above. 

All  we  ask  or  think,  and  more, 

He  will  give  in  bounteous  store,  — 

He  can  fill  and  satisfy  ! 

God  shall  all  your  need  '  supply ' 

One  the  channel,  deep  and  broad, 

From  the  Fountain  of  the  Throne, 
Christ  the  Saviour,  Son  of  God, 

Blessings  flow  through  Him  alone. 
He,  the  Faithful  and  the  True, 
Brings  us  mercies  ever  new  : 
Till  we  reach  His  home  on  high, 
1  God  shall  all  your  need  supply.' 


WAIT  PATIENTLY  FOR  HIM. 

GOD  doth  not  bid  thee  wait 
To  disappoint  at  last ; 
A  golden  promise,  fair  and  great, 
In  precept-mould  is  cast. 


1  The  Greek  word  is  much  stronger  than  the 
English,—  rtXrjpw 6 si — 'will supply  to  the  full,' 
'fill  up,'  'satisfy.' 


THE   MINISTRY   OF  SONG. 


Soon  shall  the  morning  gild 
The  dark  horizon-rim, 
Thy  heart's  desire  shall  be  fulfilled, 
4  Waif  patiently  for  Him. ' 

The  weary  waiting  times 
Are  but  the  muffled  peals 

Low  preluding  celestial  chimes, 
That  hail  His  chariot-wheels. 
Trust  Him  to  tune  thy  voice 
To  blend  with  seraphim  ; 

His  '  Wait '  shall  issue  in  '  Rejoice  !' 
'  Writ  patiently  for  Him/ 

He  doth  not  bid  thee  wait, 

Like  drift-wood  on  the  wave, 
For  fickle  chance  or  fix£d  fate 

To  ruin  or  to  save. 

Thine  eyes  shall  surely  see, 

No  distant  hope  or  dim, 
The  Lord  thy  God  arise  for  thee  : 

'  Wait  patiently  for  Him.' 


THIS  SAME  JESUS. 

ACTS.   i.    II. 

'  THIS  same  Jesus  !'     Oh  !  how  sweetly 
Fall  those  words  upon  the  ear, 

Like  a  swell  of  far  off  music, 
In  a  nightwatch  still  and  drear  i 

He  who  healed  the  hopeless  leper, 
He  who  dried  the  widow's  tear  ; 

He  who  changed  to  health  and  gladness 
Helpless  suffering,  trembling  fear  ; 

He  who  wandered,  poor  and  homeless, 

By  the  stormy  Galilee ; 
He  who  on  the  night-robed  mountain 

Bent  in  prayer  the  wearied  knee  ; 


He  who  spake  as  none  had  spoken, 

Angel-wisdom  far  above, 
All-forgiving,  ne'er  upbraiding, 

Full  of  tenderness  and  love  ; 

He  who  gently  called  the  weary, 
'  Come  and  I  will  give  you  rest ! ' 

He  who  loved  the  little  children, 
Took  them  in  his  arms  and  blest ; 

He  the  lonely  Man  of  sorrows, 

'Neath  our  sin-curse  bending  low ; 

By  His  faithless  friends  forsaken 
In  the  darkest  hour  of  woe  : 

'  This  same  Jesus  ! '     When  the  vision 

Of  that  last  and  awful  day 
Bursts  upon  the  prostrate  spirit, 

Like  a  midnight  lightning  ray  ; 

When,  else  dimly  apprehended, 
All  its  terrors  seem  revealed, 

Trumpet  knell  and  fiery  heavens, 
And  the  books  of  doom  unsealed  ; 

Then,  we  lift  our  hearts  adoring 

'  This  same  Jesus/  loved  and  known, 

Him,  our  own  most  gracious  Saviour, 
Seated  on  the  great  white  Throne  ; 

He  Himself,  and  '  not  another/ 
He  for  whom  our  heart-love  yearned 

Through  long  years  of  twilight  waiting, 
To  his  ransomed  ones  returned  ! 

For  this  word,  O  Lord,  we  bless  Thee, 
Bless  our  Master's  changeless  name  ; 
Yesterday,  to  day,  for  ever, 
Jesus  Christ  is  still  the  Same. 


HE   WHO    HEALED    THE    HOPELESS   LEPER, 
HE    WHO   DRIED   THE   WIDOW'S    TEAR  ; 

HE   WHO   CHANGED   TO   HEALTH   AND   GLADNESS 
HELPLESS    SUFFERING,    TREMBLING    PEAK. 


Page  50 


DAILY    STRENGTH. 


MARY'S  BIRTHDAY. 

SHE  is  at  rest, 

In  God's  own  presence  blest, 
Whom,  while  with  us,  this  day  we  loved  to 
greet ; 

Her  birthdays  o'er, 
She  counts  the  years  no  more  ; 
Time's  footfall  is  not  heard  along  the  gold- 
en street. 

When  we  would  raise 
A  hymn  of  birthday  praise, 
The  music  of  our  hearts  is  faint  and  low  ; 

Fear,  doubt,  and  sin 
Make  dissonance  within  ; 
And  pure  soul-melody  no   child  of  earth 
may  know. 

That  strange  '  new  song, ' 
Amid  a  white-robed  throng, 
Is  gushing  from  her  harp  in  living  tone  ; 

Her  seraph  voice, 
Tuned  only  to  rejoice, 
Floats    upward     to    the    emerald-arched 
throne. l 

No  passing  cloud 
Her  loveliness  may  shroud, 
The  beauty  of  her  youth  may  never  fade  ; 

No  line  of  care 
Her  sealed  brow  may  wear, 
The  joy-gleam  of  her  eye  no  dimness  e'er 
may  shade. 

No  stain  is  there 
Upon  the  robes  they  wear, 
Within  the  gates  of  pearl  which  she   hath 


Like  woven  light, 
All  beautiful  and  bright, 
Eternity  upon  those  robes  no  shade   may 
cast 


1  Rev.  iv.  3. 


No  sin-born  thought 
May  in  that  home  be  wrought, 
To  trouble  the  clear  fountain  of-heFheart ; 

No  tear,  no  sigh, 
No  pain,  no  death,  be  nigh 
Where  she  hath  entered   in,  no   more   to 
'know  in  part,' 

Her  faith  is  sight, 
Her  hope  is  full  delight, 
The  shadowy  veil  of  time  is  rent  in  twain  : 

Her  untold  bliss — 
What  thought  can  follow  this  ! 
To  her  to  live  was  Christ,  to  die  indeed  is 
gain. 

Her  eyes  have  seen 
The  King,  no  veil  between, 
In  blood-dipped  vesture  gloriously  arrayed: 
No  earth-breathed  haze 
Can  dim  that  rapturous  gaze  ; 
She  sees  Him  face  to  face  on  whom  her 
guilt  was  laid. 

A  little  while, 

And  they  whose  loving  smile 
Had  melted  'neath   the   touch  of  lonely 
woe, 

Shall  reach  her  home, 
Beyond  the  star-built  dome  ; 
Her  anthem  they  shall  swell,  her  joy  they 
too  shall  know. 


DAILY  STRENGTH. 

'  As  thy  day  thy  strength  shall  be  !' 
This  should  be  enough  for  thee  ; 
He  who  knows  thy  frame  will  spare 
Burdens  more  than  thou  canst  bear. 

When  thy  days  are  veiled  in  night, 
Christ  shall  give  thee  heavenly  light ; 


THE   MINISTRY   OF   SONG. 


Seem  they  wearisome  and  long, 
Yet  in  Him  thou  shalt  be  strong. 

Cold  and  wintry  though  they  prove, 
Thine  the  sunshine  of  His  love, 
Or,  with  fervid  heat  oppressed, 
In  His  shadow  thou  shalt  rest 

When  thy  days  on  earth  are  past, 
Christ  shall  call  thee  home  at  last, 
His  redeeming  love  to  praise, 
Who  hath  strengthened  all  thy  days. 


THE  RIGHT  WAY. 

LORD,  is  it  still  the  right  way,  though  I 

cannot  see  Thy  face, 
Though  I  do  not  feel  Thy  presence  and 

Thine  all-sustaining  grace  ? 
Can  even  this  be  leading  through  the  bleak 

and  sunless  wild 
To  the  City  of  Thy  holy  rest,  the  mansions 

undefiled  ? 

Lord,  is  it  still  the  right  way  ?     A  while 

ago  I  passed 
Where   every   step  seemed  thornier    and 

harder  than  the  last  ; 
Where  bitterest  disappointment  and  inly 

aching  sorrow 
Carved  day  by  day  a  weary  cross,  renewed 

with  every  morrow. 

The  heaviest  end  of  that  strange  cross  I 

knew  was  laid  on  Thee ; 
So  I  could  still  press  on,  secure  of  Thy 

deep  sympathy. 
Our  upward  path  may  well  be  steep,  else 

how  were  patience  tried  ? 
I  knew  it  was  the  right  way,  for  it  led  me 

to  Thy  side. 


But  now  I  wait  alone  amid  dim  shadows 

dank  and  chill ; 
All  moves  and  changes  round  me,  but  I 

seem  standing  still  ; 
Or  every  feeble  footstep  I  urge   towards 

the  light 
Seems  but  to  lead  me  farther  into  the  silent 

night. 

I  cannot  hear  Thy  voice,  Lord !  dost  Thou 

still  hear  my  cry  ? 
I  cling  to  Thine  assurance  that  Thou  art 

ever  nigh ; 
I  know  that  Thou  art  faithful ;  I  trust,  but 

cannot  see 
That  it  is   still  the  right  way  by  which 

Thou  leadest  me. 

I  think  I  could  go  forward  with  brave  and 

joyful  heart, 
Though  every  step  should  pierce  me  with 

unknown  fiery  smart, 
If  only  I  might  see  Thee,  if  I  might  gaze 

above 
On  all  the  cloudless  glory  of  the  sunshine 

of  Thy  love. 

Is  it  really  leading  onwards  ?     When  the 

shadows  flee  away, 
Shall  I  find  this  path  has  brought  me  more 

near  to  perfect  day? 
Or  am  I  left  to  wander  thus  that  I  may 

stretch  my  hand 
To  some  still  wearier  traveller  in  this  same 

shadow-land  ? 

Is  this  Thy  chosen  training  for  some  future 

task  unknown  ? 
Is  it  that  I  may  learn  to  rest  upon  Thy 

word  alone  ? 


THY   WILL   BE   DONE. 


53 


Whate'er  it  be,  oh  !  leave  me  not,  fulfil 

Thou  every  hour 
The  purpose  of  Thy  goodness,  and  the 

work  of  faith  with  power. 

I  lay  my  prayer  before  Thee,  and,  trusting 
in  Thy  word, 

Though  all  is  silence  in  my  heart,  I  know 
that  Thou  hast  heard. 

To  that  blest  City  lead  me,  Lord  (still 
choosing  all  my  way), 

Where  faith  melts  into  vision  as  the  star- 
light into  day. 


THY  WILL  BE  DONE. 

'  Understanding  what  the  will  of  the  Lord  is. ' 
EPH.  v.  17. 

WITH  quivering  heart  and  trembling  will 
The  word  hath  passed  thy  lips, 

Within  the  shadow,  cold  and  still, 
Of  some  fair  joy's  eclipse. 

'  Thy  will  be  done !'    Thy  God  hath  heard, 

And  He  will  crown  that  faith-framed  word. 


Thy  prayer  shall  be  fulfilled  :  but  how  ? 

His  thoughts  are  not  as  thine  ; 
While  thou  wouldst  only  weep  and  bow, 

He  saith,  '  Arise  and  shine  !' 
Thy  thoughts  were  all  of  grief  and  night, 
But  His  of  boundless  joy  and  light 

Thy  Father  reigns  supreme  above  : 

The  glory  of  His  name 
Is  Grace  and  Wisdom,  Truth  and  Love, 

His  will  must  be  the  same. 
And  thou  hast  asked  all  joys  in  one, 
In  whispering  forth,    '  Thy  will  be  done. ' 


His  will — each  soul  to  sanctify 
Redeeming  might  hath  won  ; 

His  will — that  thou  shouldst  never  die, 
Believing  on  His  Son  ;  2 

His  will — that  thou,  through  earthly  strife, 

Shouldst  rise  to  everlasting  life. 3 

That  one  unchanging  song  of  praise 
Should  from  our  hearts  arise  ;4 

That  we  should  know  His  wondrous  ways, 
Though  hidden  from  the  wise ;  5 

That  we,  so  sinful  and  so  base, 

Should  know  the  glory  of  His  grace. 8 

His  will — to  grant  the  yearning  prayer 

For  dear  ones  far  away, 7 
That  they  His  grace  and  love  may  share, 

And  tread  His  pleasant  way  ; 
That  in  the  Father  and  the  Son 
All  perfect  we  may  be  in  one. 8 

His  will — the  little  flock  to  bring 

Into  His  royal  fold, 
To  reign  for  ever  with  their  King,9 

His  beauty  to  behold.10 
Sin's  fell  dominion  crushed  for  aye, 
Sorrow  and  sighing  fled  away. 

This  thou  hast  asked  !     And   shall  the 
prayer 

Float  upward  on  a  sigh  ? 
No  song  were  sweet  enough  to  bear 

Such  glad  desires  on  high  I 
But  God  thy  Father  shall  fulfil, 
In  thee  and  for  thee,  all  His  will. 


1  i  Thess.  iv.  3.      2  John  vi.  40.      3  John  vi.  39. 

4  i  Thess.  v.  18.  s^Matt.  xi.  25,  26. 

6  Eph.  i.  5,  6,  II,  12.        '  i  John  v.  14-16. 

8  John  xvii.  23,  24.  »  Luke  xii.  32. 

10  Isa.  xxxiii.  17. 


54 


THE    MINISTRY   OF   SONG. 


'  THE  THINGS  WHICH  ARE 
BEHIND: 

LEAVE  behind  earth's  empty  pleasure, 
Fleeting  hope  and  changeful  love  ; 

Leave  its  soon-corroding  treasure  : 
There  are  better  things  above. 

Leave,  oh,  leave  thy  fond  aspirings, 
Bid  thy  restless  heart  be  still  ; 

Cease,  oh,  cease  thy  vain  desirings, 
Only  seek  thy  Father's  will. 

Leave  behind  thy  faithless  sorrow, 
And  thine  every  anxious  care  ; 

He  who  only  knows  the  morrow 
Can  for  thee  its  burden  bear. 

Leave  behind  the  doubting  spirit, 
And  thy  crushing  load  of  sin  ; 

By  thy  mighty  Saviour's  merit, 
Life  eternal  thou  shalt  win. 

Leave  the  darkness  gathering  o'er  thee, 
Leave  the  shadow-land  behind  ; 

Realms  of  glory  lie  before  thee  ; 
Enter  in,  and  welcome  find. 


1  NOW  i  SEE: 

JOHN  ix.  25. 

'  Now  I  see  ! '    But  not  the  parting 

Of  the  melting  earth  and  sky, 
Not  a  vision  dread  and  startling, 

Forcing  one  despairing  cry. 
But  I  see  the  solemn  saying, 

All  have  sinned,  and  all  must  die ; 
Holy  precepts  disobeying, 

Guilty  all  the  world  must  lie. 
Bending,  silenced,  to  the  dust, 
Now  I  see  that  God  is  just. 


'  Now  I  see  ! '     But  not  the  glory, 

Not  the  face  of  Him  I  love, 
Not  the  full  and  burning  story 

Of  the  mysteries  above. 
But  I  see  what  God  hath  spoken, 

How  His  well-beloved  Son 
Kept  the  laws  which  man  hath  broken, 

Died  for  sins  which  man  hath  done  ; 
Dying,  rising,  throned  above  ! 
'  Now  I  see  '  that  God  is  Love. 


EVERLASTING  LOVE. 

*  Yea,  I  have  loved  thee  with  an  everlasting 
love,  therefore  with  loving-kindness  have  I 
drawn  thee.'  'No  man  can  come  to  Me  except 
the  Father  which  hath  sent  Me  draw  him.' 

'  GOD'S  everlasting  love  !  What  wouldst 
thou  more  ? ' 

O  true  and  tender  friend,  well  hast  thou 
spoken. 

My  heart  was  restless,  weary,  sad,  and 
sore, 

And  longed  and  listened  for  some  heaven- 
sent token  : 

And,  like  a  child  that  knows  not  why  it 
cried, 

'Mid  God's  full  promises  it  moaned, 
1  Unsatisfied  !' 

Yet  there  it  stands.  O  love  surpassing 
thought, 

So  bright,  so  grand,  so  clear,  so  true,  so 
glorious  ; 

Love  infinite,  love  tender,  love  unsought, 

Love  changeless,  love  rejoicing,  love  vic- 
torious ! 

And  this  great  love  for  us  in  boundless 
store  : 

God's  everlasting  love  !  What  would  we 
more  ? 


SPEAK  TO    ME   BY    NAME,    O   MASTER, 

LET   ME   KNOW   IT   IS  TO   ME; 
SPEAK,  THAT  I   MAY   FOLLOW   FASTER, 

WITH   A   STEP   MORE  FIRM   AND   FREE, 
WHERE  THE   SHEPHERD    LEADS  THE   FLOCK, 
IN   THE  SHADOW   OF  THE   ROCK. 

Page  55- 


'MASTER,   SAY  ON  !' 


55 


Yes,  one  thing  more  !  To  know  it  ours 
indeed, 

To  add  the  conscious  joy  of  full  posses- 
sion. 

O  tender  grace  that  stoops  to  every  need  ! 

This  everlasting  love  hath  found  expres- 
sion 

In  loving-kindness,  which  hath  gently 
drawn 

The  heart  that  else  astray  too  willingly  had 
gone. 

From   no   less   fountain   such   a   stream 

could  flow, 

No  other  root  could  yield  so  fair  a  flower  : 
Had  He  not  loved,  He  had  not  drawn  us 

so  ; 
Had  He  not  drawn,   we  had  nor  will  nor 

power 
To  rise,    to    come ; — the    Saviour    had 

passed  by 
Where   we  in  blindness  sat  without  one 

care  or  cry. 

We  thirst  for  God,  our  treasure  is  above  ; 
Earth  has  no  gift  our  one  desire  to  meet, 
And  that  desire  is  pledge  of  His  own 

love. 
Sweet  question  ;  with  no  answer  !  oh  how 

sweet  ! 
My  heart   in  chiming  gladness  o'er  and 

o'er 
Sings  on — '  God's  everlasting  love  !  What 

wouldst  thou  more  ?' 


'MASTER,  SAY  ON /' 

MASTER,  speak  !  Thy  servant  heareth, 
Waiting  for  Thy  gracious  word, 

Longing  for  Thy  voice  which  cheereth  ; 
Master  !  let  it  now  be  heard. 


I  am  listening,  Lord,  for  Thee  ; 
What  hast  Thou  to  say  to  me  ? 

Master,  speak  in  love  and  poweT:  ~ 
Crown  the  mercies  of  the  day, 

In  this  quiet  evening  hour 
Of  the  moonrise  o'er  the  bay, 

With  the  music  of  Thy  voice  ; 

Speak  !  and  bid  Thy  child  rejoice. 

Often  through  my  heart  is  pealing 
Many  another  voice  than  Thine, 

Many  an  unwilled  echo  stealing 
From  the  walls  of  this  Thy  shrine  : 

Let  Thy  longed-for  accents  fall  ; 

Master,  speak  !  and  silence  all 

Master,  speak  !  I  do  not  doubt  Thee, 
Though  so  tearfully  I  plead  ; 

Saviour,  Shepherd  !  oh,  without  Thee 
Life  would  be  a  blank  indeed  1 

But  I  long  for  fuller  light, 

Deeper  love,  and  clearer  sight 

Resting  on  the  4  faithful  saying/ 
Trusting  what  Thy  gospel  saith, 

On  Thy  written  promise  staying 
All  my  hope  in  Life  and  death, 

Yet  I  long  for  something  more 

From  Thy  love's  exhaustless  store. 

Speak  to  me  by  name,  O  Master, 

Let  me  know  it  is  to  me ; 
Speak,  that  I  may  follow  faster, 

With  a  step  more  firm  and  free, 
Where  the  Shepherd  leads  the  flock, 
In  the  shadow  of  the  Rock. 

Master,  speak  !  I  kneel  before  Thee, 
Listening,  longing,  waiting  still ; 

Oh,  how  long  shall  I  implore  Thee 
This  petition  to  fulfil  ! 


THE   MINISTRY   OF   SONG. 


Hast  Thou  not  one  word  for  me  ? 
Must  my  prayer  unanswered  be  ? 

Master,  speak  !  Though  least  and  lowest, 

Let  me  not  unheard  depart  ; 
Master,  speak  !  for  oh,  Thou  knowest 

All  the  yearning  of  my  heart, 
Knowest  all  its  truest  need  ; 
Speak  !  and  make  me  blest  indeed. 

Master,  speak  !  and  make  me  ready, 
When  Thy  voice  is  truly  heard, 

With  obedience  glad  and  steady 
Still  to  follow  every  word. 

I  am  listening,  Lord,  for  Thee  ; 

Master,  speak,  oh,  speak  to  me ! 


REMOTE  RESULTS. 

WHERE  are  the  countless  crystals, 

So  perfect  and  so  bright, 
That  robed  in  softest  ermine 

The  winter  day  and  night  ? 
Not  lost !  for,  life  to  many  a  root, 
They  rise  again  in  flower  and  fruit. 

Where  are  the  mighty  forests, 

And  giant  ferns  of  old, 
That  in  primeval  silence 

Strange  leaf  and  frond  unrolled  ? 
Not  lost !  for  now  they  shine  and  blaze, 
The  light  and  warmth  of  Christmas  days. 

Where  are  our  early  lessons, 

The  teachings  of  our  youth, 
The  countless  words  forgotten 

Of  knowledge  and  of  truth  ? 
Not  lost !  for  they  are  living  still, 
As  power  to  think,  and  do,  and  will. 

Where  is  the  seed  we  scatter, 
With  weak  and  trembling  hand, 


Beside  the  gloomy  waters, 

Or  on  the  arid  land  ? 
Not  lost !  for  after  many  days 
Our  prayer  and  toil  shall  turn  to  praise. 

Where  are  the  days  of  sorrow, 

And  lonely  hours  of  pain, 
When  work  is  interrupted, 

Or  planned  and  willed  in  vain  ? 
Not  lost !  it  is  the  thorniest  shoot 
That  bears  the  Master's  pleasant  fruit. 

Where,  where  are  all  God's  lessons, 
His  teachings  dark  or  bright  ? 

Not  lost  !  but  only  hidden, 
Till,  in  eternal  light, 

We  see,  while  at  His  feet  we  fall, 

The  reasons  and  results  of  all. 


ON  THE  LAST  LEAF.1 

FINISHED  at  last ! 
Yet  for  five  years  past 
My  book  on  the  dusty  shelf  hath  lain, 
And  I  hardly  thought  that  ever  again 
My  thoughts  would  follow  the  pleasant 

chime 
Of  musical  measure  and  ringing  rhyme. 

I  remember  well  when  I  laid  it  by, 
Closed  with  a  sort  of  requiem  sigh. 
Spring  in  her  beauty  had  swept  along, 
And  left  my  spirit  all  full  of  song  : 
The   wakening  depths  of  my  heart  were 

stirred, 
Voices  within  and  without  I  heard, 

Whispering  me 

That  I  might  be 
A  messenger  of  peace  and  pleasure  ; 

That  in  my  careless  minstrelsy 
Lay  something  of  poetic  treasure, 


Written  at  the  close  of  a  manuscript  volume. 


HOW  SHOULD  THEY  KNOW  ME? 


57 


Which,  wrought  with  care,  I  yet  some  day 

At  all  my  loved  ones'  feet  might  lay. 

Perhaps  'twas  a  vain  and  foolish  dream, 

A  fancy-lit,  illusive  gleam  ! 

And  yet  I  cannot  quite  believe 

That  such  bright  impulse  could  deceive. 

I  felt  I  had  so  much  to  say, 

Such  pleasant  thoughts  from  day  to  day, 

Sang,  lark-like,  with  each  morning  ray, 

Or  murmured  low  in  twilight  gray, 

Like  distant  curfew  pealing. 
And  then,  for  each,  fair  Fancy  brought 
A  robe  of  language  ready  wrought, 
The  smile  of  every  winged  thought 
Half  veiling,  half  revealing. 
And  I  only  waited,  with  longing  gaze, 
For  the  golden  leisure  of  summer  days, 
Which  I  thought  to  crown  with  happiest 
lays. 

God  thought  not  so  !      Ah  no,  He  knew 
There  was  other  work  for  me  to  do, 
There  were  other  lessons  for  me  to  learn  : 
Another  voice  fell,  low  and  stern, 

Upon  the  too  reluctant  ear. 
Before  the  solemn  voice  of  Pain 
My  visions  fled,  nor  came  again, 
With  all  their  glad  and  lovely  train, 

My  summer-tide  to  cheer. 

Well  is  it  when,  at  high  command 
Of  wisest  Love,  she  takes  her  stand 

At  the  heart's  busy  portal, 
And  warns  away  each  noisy  guest 
Whose  presence  chases  calm  and  rest, 
Our  powers,  the  brightest  and  the  best, 

Proclaiming  weak  and  mortal. 
That  so  the  way  may  be  more  clear 

For  Him,  the  Prince  of  Peace,  to  come, 
That  which  is  left  all  void  and  drear 

To  make  His  palace  and  His  home. 


And  so  the  song  of  my  heart  was  hushed, 
And  the  chiming  thoughts  were  stilled : 

Summer    flew    by,    but   the— hope    was 
crushed, 

Swiftly  onward  my  life-tide  rushed, 
But  my  book  remained  unfilled. 

For  an  aching  head  and  a  weary  frame, 

Poetry  is  but  an  empty  name. 

Yet  I  am  sure  it  was  better  so, 

I  trusted  then,  and  now  I  know. 

For  ever,  I  think,  the  gift  is  fled 

Which  once  I  fancied  mine  : 
So  be  it !     A  '  name '  is  not  for  me  ; 
Loving  and  loved  I  would  rather  be, 
With  power  to  cheer  and  sympathize, 
Bearing  new  light  for  tear-dimmed  eyes  ; 

But  I  do  not  care  to  shine. 

So  if  aught  I  write  may  tend  to  this, 
My  fairest  hope  of  earthly  bliss, 

Content  with  humblest  rhyme  I'll  be  ; 
And,  striving  less  and  trusting  more, 
All  simple,  earnest  thoughts  outpour, 

Such  as  my  God  may  give  to  me. 


HOW  SHOULD  THEY  KNOW  ME  ? 

THERE  are  those  who  deem  they  know  me 

well, 

And  smile  as  I  tell  them  '  nay  !' 
Who  think  they  may  clearly  and  carelessly 

tell 

Each  living  drop  in  my  heart's  deep  well, 
And  lightly  enter  its  inmost  cell  ; 
But  little  (how  little  !)  know  they  ! 

How  should  they  know  me  ?     My  soul  is 

a  maze 

Where  I  wander  alone,  alone  ; 
Never  a  footfall  there  was  heard, 


THE   MINISTRY   OF   SONG. 


Never  a  mortal  hand  hath  stirred 
The  silence-curtain  that  hangs  between 
Outer  and  inner,  nor  eye  hath  seen 
What  is  only  and  ever  my  own. 

They  have  entered  indeed  the  vestibule, 

For  its  gate  is  opened  wide, 
High  as  the  roof,  and  I  welcome  all 
Who  will  visit  my  warm  reception-hall, 
And  utter  a  long  and  loving  call 

To  some  who  are  yet  outside. 

I  would  lead  each  guest  to  a  place  of  rest ; 

All  should  be  calm  and  bright  ; 
Then  a  lulling  flow  of  melody, 
And  a  crystal  draught  of  sympathy, 
And  odorous  blossoms  of  kindly  thought, 
With  golden  fruit  of  deed,  be  brought 

From  the  chambers  out  of  sight 

Some  I  would  take  with  a  cordial  hand, 

And  lead  them  round  the  walls  ; 
Showing  them  many  a  storied  screen, 
Many  a  portrait,  many  a  scene, 
Deep-cut  carving,  and  outlined  scroll  * 
Passing  quickly  where  shadows  roll, 
Slowly  where  sunshine  falls. 

They  do  not  know  and  they  cannot  see 

That  strong-hinged,   low-arched  door, 
Though  I  am  passing  in  and  out, 
From  gloom  within  to  light  without, 
Or  from  gloom  without  to  light  within  ; 
None  can  ever  an  entrance  win, 
None !  for  evermore. 

It  is  a  weird  and  wondrous  realm, 

Where  I  often  hold  my  breath 
At  the  unseen  things  which  there  I  see, 
At  the  mighty  shapes  which  beckon  to  me, 
At  the  visions  of  woe  and  ecstasy, 
At  the  greetings  of  life  and  death. 


They  rise,  they  pass,  they  melt  away, 

In  an  ever-changing  train  ; 
I  cannot  hold  them  or  tell  their  stay, 
Or  measure  the  time  of  their  fleeting  sway ; 
As  grim  as  night,  and  as  fair  as  day, 

They  vanish  and  come  again. 

I  wander  on  through  the  strange  domain, 

Marvelling  ever  and  aye  ; 
Marvelling  how  around  my  feet 
All  the  opposites  seem  to  meet, 
The  dark,  the  light,  the  chill,  the  glow, 
The  storm,  the  calm,  the  fire,  the  snow,  — 
How  can  it  be  ?     I  do  not  know. 

Then  how,  oh  how,  can  they  ? 

What  am  I,  and  how  ?    If  reply  there  be, 

In  unsearchable  chaos  'tis  cast. 
Though  the  soaring  spirit  of  restless  man 
Might  the  boundary  line  of  the  universe 

scan, 
And   measure   and  map   its   measureless 

plan, 
The  gift  of  self-knowledge  were  last ! 


MAKING  POETRY. 

LITTLE  one,  what  are  you  doing, 

Sitting  on  the  window-seat  ? 
Laughing  to  yourself,  and  writing, 
Some  right  merry  thought  inditing, 

Balancing  with  swinging  feet 

'  'Tis  some  poetry  I'm  making, 
Though  I  never  tried  before  ; 

Four  whole  lines  !    I'll  read  them  to  you. 

Do  you  think  them  funny,  do  you  ? 
Shall  I  try  to  make  some  more  ? 

1 1  should  like  to  be  a  poet, 
Writing  verses  every  day  ; 


THE  CASCADE. 


59 


Then  to  you  I'd  always  bring  them, 
You  should  make  a  tune  and  sing  them  ; 
'T  would  be  pleasanter  than  play.' 

Think  you,  darling,  nought  is  needed 

But  the  paper  and  the  ink, 
And  a  pen  to  trace  so  lightly, 
While  the  eye  is  beaming  brightly, 

All  the  pretty  things  you  think  ? 

There's  a  secret,  — can  you  trust  me  ? 

Do  not  ask  me  what  it  is  ! 
Perhaps  some  day  you  too  will  know  it, 
If  you  live  to  be  a  poet, 

All  its  agony  and  bliss. 

Poetry  is  not  a  trifle, 

Lightly  thought  and  lightly  made  ; 
Not  a  fair  and  scentless  flower, 
Gaily  cultured  for  an  hour, 

Then  as  gaily  left  to  fade. 

'Tis  not  stringing  rhymes  together 

In  a  pleasant  true  accord  ; 
Not  the  music  of  the  metre, 
Not  the  happy  fancies,  sweeter 

Than  a  flower-bell,  honey-stored. 

'Tis  the  essence  of  existence, 

Rarely  rising  to  the  light; 
And  the  songs  that  echo  longest, 
Deepest,  fullest,  truest,  strongest, 

With  your  life-blood  you  will  write. 

With  your  life-blood.      None  will  know  it, 
You  will  never  tell  them  how. 

Smile  !  and  they  will  never  guess  it ; 

Laugh  !  and  you  will  not  confess  it 
By  your  paler  cheek  and  brow. 

There  must  be  the  tightest  tension 
Ere  the  tone  be  full  and  true  : 


Shallow  lakelets  of  emotion 
Are  not  like  the  spirit-ocean, 
Which  reflects  the  purest  blue. 

Every  lesson  you  shall  utter, 

If  the  charge  indeed  be  yours, 

First  is  gained  by  earnest  learning, 

Carved  in  letters  deep  and  burning 

On  a  heart  that  long  endures. 

Day  by  day  that  wondrous  tablet 
Your  life-poem  shall  receive, 

By  the  hand  of  Joy  or  Sorrow; 

But  the  pen  can  never  borrow 
Half  the  records  that  they  leave. 

You  will  only  give  a  transcript 
Of  a  life-line  here  and  there, 
Only  just  a  spray- wreath  springing 
From  the  hidden  depths,  and  flinging 
Broken  rainbows  on  the  air. 

Still   if  you  but  copy  truly, 

'Twill  be  poetry  indeed, 
Echoing  many  a  heart's  vibration, 
Rather  love  than  admiration 

Earning  as  your  priceless  meed. 

Will  you  seek  it  ?     Will  you  brave  it  ? 

'Tis  a  strange  and  solemn  thing; 
Learning  long,  before  your  teaching, 
Listening  long  before  your  preaching, 

Suffering  before  you  sing. 


THE  CASCADE. 
WHO  saith  that  Poetry  is  not  in  thee, 
Thou  wild  cascade,  bright,  beautiful,  and 

free? 
Who  saith  that  thine  own  sunny  gleaming 

waters 
Are    not   among    '  sweet    Poesie's '   fair 

daughters  ? 


6o 


THE   MINISTRY  OF   SONG. 


No  Poetry  in  thee  ?  then  tell,  oh  tell, 
Where  is  the  home  where  she  delights  to 

dwell  ? 

But  what  is  Poetry?  Some  aerial  sprite, 
Clothed  in  a  dazzling  robe  of  wavy  light, 
Whose  magic  touch  unlocks  the  gates  of 

j°7 

In  dreamland  to  some  vision-haunted  boy  ? 
Or  is  she  but  a  breath  from  Eden-bowers, 
Charged  with  the  fragrance  of  their  shin- 
ing flowers, 
Which,  passing  o'er  the  harp-strings  of  the 

soul, 

Awakes  new  melody,  whose  echoes  roll 
In  waves  of  spirit-music  through  the  heart, 
Till  tears  and  smiles  in  mingling  sweet- 
ness start  ? 

It  may  be  so,  but  still  she  seems  to  me 
Most  like  a  God-sent  sunlight,  rich  and 

free, 

Bathing  the  tiniest  leaf  in  molten  gold, 
Bidding  each  flower  some  secret  charm 

unfold, 

Weaving  a  veil  of  loveliness  for -earth, 
Calling  all  fairy  forms  to  wondrous  birth. 

Our  sweet  soul- Artist  1  Many  a  fair  sur- 
prise 

Her  color-treasures  bring  to  waiting  eyes  ; 

Her  pictures,  sudden  seen,  oft  seem  to 
dwell 

Like  pearls  within  the  rugged  ocean  shell  ; 

They  tell  of  something  purer  and  more  fair 

Than  earth  can  boast,  and  gleam  forth 
everywhere, 

Star-glimpses  through  the  trees,  or  flashes 
bright 

Of  meteor  glory  in  a  northern  night. 

Our  sweet  soul-Harpist !    linking  winds 

with  sighs, 
And  blending  both  with  spirit-melodies, 


And  adding  chords  that  come  we  know 

not  whence, 
Dream-echoes  mingling  with  the  wakeful 

sense. 

O  strange,   O  beautiful  !  though  all  un- 
known, 

The  music-fount  of  every  lovely  tone, 
The  color-fount  of  ever)'  lovely  thought, 
By  this  bright  ministrant  so  freely  brought, 
Save  that  we  own  their  true  and  soothing 

might, 

One   of  His   perfect  gifts,  whose  names 
are  Love  and  Light 

Oh !  she  is  often  where  we  least  surmise, 
And  scorns  the  dimness  of  our  heavy  eyes  : 
We  catch  the  ruby  sparkles  of  her  wing, 
And  she  is  gone  like  the  dewdrops  of  the 

spring  ; 

Again,  to  glad  us  with  her  smile  she  stays, 
And  shows  her  brightness  to  our  loving 

gaze. 
No   cave  so   dark  but  she  may  gain  its 

porch, 
And  gild  the  shadows  with  her  quenchless 

torch  ; 

No  dell  so  silent  but  her  pealing  voice 
Can  bid  a  leafy  orchestra  rejoice ; 
No  waste  so  lonely   but   she  there  may 

hold 

Her  gorgeous  court  in  splendor  all  un- 
told. 

And  where  those  waters  murmur  as  they 

leap, 

A  song  of  gentleness,  and  calm,  and  sleep, 
Within  the  sounding  music  of  their  tone 
I  hear  a  voice,  and  know  it  is  her  own. 

And  where  the  fair  fond  sunbeams  blithely 

play 
Amid  the  hazy  wreaths  of  dancing  spray, 


CONSTANCE  DE  V- 


6l 


A  form  of  fairy  grace  shines  forth  to  me  ; 

I  hail  the  vision,  for  I  know  'tis  she. 

She  loves  that  changeful,  yet  unchanging 

foam, 

Within  its  arching  bowers  she  finds  a  home, 
And  reads  beneath  its  roof  of  fleeting  snow 
The  secrets  of  the  shadowy  depth  below. 
Then  who  shall  say  that  she  is  not  in  thee, 
"hou  wild  cascade,  bright,  beautiful,  and 

free  ! 


CONSTANCE  DE  V 


AN  EPISODE  IN  THE  LIFE    OF    CHARLES    MAU- 
RICE,  PRINCE  DE  TALLEYRAND. 

YE  maidens  of  Old  England  ! 

The  joyous  and  the  free, 
The  loving  and  the  loved  of  all, 

Wherever  ye  may  be  ; 
Who  wander  through  the  ferny  dell, 

And  o'er  the  breezy  hill, 
And  glide  along  the  woodland  path 

All  at  your  own  sweet  will ; 
Who  know  the  many  joys  of  home, 

The  song,  the  smile,  the  mirth, 
happy  things  which  God  has  given 

To  brighten  this  our  earth  : 
"omes  there  a  sigh,  a  longing  thought, 

In  lonely  musing  hours  ? 
Deem  ye  there  is  a  fairer  realm, 

A  purer  faith  than  ours  ? 
O  cast  away  the  yearning  dream, 

And  listen,  while  I  tell 
)f  one  who  knew  no  other  home 

Than  her  own  convent  cell. 

i. 

ie  rain  comes  down  relentlessly, 
The  sky  is  robed  in  grey, 
)h,  Paris  is  a  dreary  place 
On  such  a  dreary  day  1 


But  dreariest  of  the  darkening  streets, 
Where  the  loud  rain  doth  fall, 

Is  that  where  looms  the  convent  tower, 
Where  frowns  the  convent  wall. 

ii. 

A  boyish  step  is  passing 

Beneath  the  dripping  eaves, 
With  monkish  lore  beladen, 

With  musty  Latin  leaves. 
Ah,  Charles  Maurice,  the  young  abbe", 

Thou  art  of  princely  birth  ! 
For  thee  shall  dawn  a  brighter  day, 
A  strange  high  part  be  thine  to  play, 
With  wondrous  tact  to  guide  and  sway 

The  great  ones  of  the  earth  ! 

in. 

But  the  still-increasing  torrents 

Will  spoil  the  ancient  tomes, 
And  woe  betide  Charles  Maurice 

From  the  wrath  of  cowled  gnomes  ! 
So  he  seeks  a  low-bent  archway 

Within  the  grim  old  wall, 
Where  never  the  laughing  footstep 

Of  a  sunbeam  dares  to  fall. 

IV. 

Anon  he  wraps  the  volumes 

In  the  folds  of  his  hooded  gown  ; 
Then  starts  to  hear,  though  he  knows  no 

fear, 
A  sound  which  tells  him  life  is  near — 

That  he  is  not  alone. 
He  turns — the  passage  is  dark  as  night, 

He  listens — but  all  is  still, 
Save  the  raindrops  in  monotonous  march, 
And  the  ceaseless  drip  from  the  moulder- 
ing arch, 

On  the  stone  so  damp  and  chill. 


62 


THE   MINISTRY   OF   SONG. 


V. 

'  Qutvive?  he  cries  right  gaily, 

Through  the  cavernous  entry's  gloom  ; 
But  a  low,  faint  cry  is  the  sole  reply, 
As  the  voice  of  one  who  is  come  lo  lie 

On  the  brink  of  a  yawning  tomb. 
Oh,  where  is  the  true-hearted  lad, 

Who  at  the  call  of  sorrow 
But  in  his  thoughtlessness  is  glad 
To  help  the  weak  and  cheer  the  sad, 

And  promise  a  brighter  morrow  ? 

VI. 

The  cry  was  one  of  weakness — 

Of  weariness  unblest 
And  a  pulse  of  gentle  sympathy 

Makes  music  in  his  breast. 
Through  the  dark  way  he  gropeth 

To  the  iron-studded  door, 
Behind  whose  oaken  grimness 
Some  dwell  in  cloistral  dimness 

Who  may  pass  out  no  more. 

VII. 

There,  in  the  glimmering  darkness, 

He  deems  he  can  descry 
A  small  and  sable-robed  form 

On  the  cold  doorstep  lie. 
The  form  is  that  of  maidenhood  ; 

And,  in  that  boyish  heart, 
It  wakes  a  helpful  tenderness, 
Like  that  which,  hidden,  yet  doth  bless 
Through  a  loved  brother's  fond  caress, 

Ere  childhood's  hours  depart. 

VIII. 

1  What  is  it  ?'  said  Charles  Maurice, 
In  a  softly  pitying  tone  ; 


Then,  lifting  her  with  gentle  arm, 

He  bore  her  where  the  light 
Fell  on  a  girlish  face  so  fair, 
It  seemed  a  seraph  light  to  wear, 
But  for  the  sorrow  mantling  there, 
And  the  glance  of  wild  affright 

IX. 

Why  should  I  paint  her  beauty  ? 

Have  ye  not  often  tried 
To  tell  of  rosy  lip  and  cheek, 
Of  starlit  eyes  that  shine  and  speak, 
Of  cloudlike  locks  that  vainly  seek 

The  snowy  brow  to  hide  ? 
And  feel  ye  not,  when  all  is  said 

That  words  can  ever  say, 
The  fount  of  beauty  still  is  sealed — 
The  loveliness  is  not  revealed 

To  those  who  list  the  lay. 


Oh,  words  can  never  satisfy — 

They  are  too  hard  and  real  ; 
The  subtle  charm  they  cannot  show 
By  which  the  Beautiful  we  know, 

The  Beautiful  we  feel. 
Perchance  they  speak  the  form,  the  mind, 

And  draw  the  likeness  well  ; 
But  at  the  closed  entrance  gate 
All  reverently  they  bend  and  wait 

Where,     'neath     the     marble-arching 

dome, 
In  crystal-windowed  palace-home, 

The  soul  itself  doth  dwell. 

XI. 

And  who  may  tell  how  lovely 
The  gentle  Constance  seemed, 


'What  dost  thou  fear?  why  art  thou  here?  j  When  through  such  clouds  of  sorrow 
And  why  that  weary  moan  ?'  I      Her  meteor  beauty  gleamed  ! 


CONSTANCE  DE  V- 


What  wonder  that  all  speechless, 

As  in  a  trance  of  gladness, 
The  young  abbe  stood  wonderingly, 

Before  such  radiant  sadness  ? 

XII. 

For  the  look  of  hopeless  terror 

Was  softened  as  she  raised 
Those  orbs  of  strange,  quick  brightness, 

And  on  Charles  Maurice  gazed. 
She  saw  the  pledge  of  kindness 

Traced  on  that  high  fair  brow  ; — 
'  Oh,  no  !  thou  never  wilt  betray, 
Bat  aid  thou  canst  not ;  say,  oh  say, 
Am  I  not  lost  ?     There  is  no  way 

Of  safe  return,  I  know/ 

XIII. 

Then  the  trembling  hands  she  folded 

Over  the  burning  cheek, 
A  wild  and  woe-born  sobbing 

Forbade  the  lips  to  speak  ; 
Till  quiet  words  of  sympathy, 

So  softly  breathed  and  low, 
And  the  touch  of  that  young  hand  on  hers, 

Soon  bade  her  story  flow. 

XIV. 

I  was  a  very  little  child, 

Not  old  enough  to  know, 
Perhaps  kind  looks  had  on  me  smiled, 

But  I  forget  them  now, 
When  I  was  brought  to  live  so  coldly  here, 
Where  all  goes  on  the  same  through  weary 
month  and  year. 

xv. 

I  did  not  know  how  lovely  all 

The  world  without  must  be  ; 
The  sunbeams  on  the  convent  wall 

Were  quite  enough  for  me  ; 


But  others  came  who  knew,  and  then  they 

told 
Of  all  that  I  had  dreamt,  but  never  might 

behold. 

XVI. 

*  They  told  me  of  the  mountains  tall, 

Where  they  might  freely  roam  ; 
They  told  me  of  the  waterfall, 

With  music  in  its  foam  ; 
They  told  me  of  wide  fields  and  opening 

flowers, 

Of  sloping  mossy  banks  and  glowing  au- 
tumn bowers. 

XVII. 

'  Of  other  things  they  told  me,  too, 

More  beautiful  to  them, 
Of  gleaming  halls  where  sparklets  flew 

From  many  a  radiant  gem  ; 
And  then  they  told  of  mirth,  and  dance, 

and  song. 

Would  I   had   never  heard,  that  I  might 
never  long  ! 

XVIII. 

'  They  said  the  sky  was  just  as  blue 

Above  the  convent  towers, 
As  where  the  arching  forests  threw 

A  shade  o'er  summer  flowers  ; 
But  I  grew  weary  of  that  dazzling  sky, 
And  longed  to  wander  forth,  e'en  if  it  were 
to  die. 

XIX. 

'  1  did  not  want  to  change  my  lot, 

I  knew  it  might  not  be  ; 
I  only  longed  to  have  one  spot 

All  bright  with  memory. 
To  gaze  just  once  upon  the  world  I  tried, 
And  then  I  would  return  to  be  Heaven's 
lonely  bride. 


64 


THE   MINISTRY   OF   SONG. 


XX. 

'But  oh,  I  heard  no  sounds  of  mirth, 

No  beauty  I  could  see  ; 
I  could  not  find  the  lovely  earth, 

It  was  not  made  for  me. 
And  now  my  punishment  indeed  is  sore, 
My  only  home  hath  closed  on  me  its  iron 
door.' 

XXI. 

Yes  !  in  her  fevered  restlessness 

She  left  her  unwatched  cell, 
When  all  around  were  summoned 

By  the  deep-voiced  matin-bell. 
And  in  the  damp-stoned  cloisters 

To  rest  awhile  she  thought, 
Where   cold,    fresh  air  might  round  her 

play, 

The  burning  fever  pass  away, 
And  coolness  of  the  early  day 

To  her  hot  brow  be  brought, 

XXII. 

Strange  carelessness  !  no  massy  bar 

Across  the  gate  was  thrown  ! 
She  deemed  that  world  of  beauty  near  ; 
She  gazed  around  in  haste  and  fear, 
Oh,  none  were  there  to  see  and  hear — 

The  timid  bird  has  flown  ! 
But  the  rain  came  down  relentlessly, 

The  sky  was  robed  in  grey  ; 
All  dreary  seemed  the  narrow  street, 
And  nothing  bright  or  fair  might  meet 
Her  of  the  white  and  trembling  feet  ; 
No  loveliness  is  there  to  greet 

That  wandering  star  to-day. 

XXIII. 

Then,  bowed  with  shame  and  weakness. 

And  disappointed  hope, 
She  only  reached  the  heavy  door 
To  find  it  firmly  closed  once  more ; 


Ah,  who  shall  help,  and  who  restore, 

And  who  that  door  shall  ope  ? 

he  strong  young  arm  of  Charles  Maurice 

Tries  once  and  yet  again, 
But  the  weighty  portal  baffles  him  : 

Ah  !  is  it  all  in  vain  ? 

XXIV. 

But  Constance  darts  one  upward  glance 

Of  blent  despair  and  trust  ; 
There  is  no  bolt,  for  daylight  gleams 
Between  the  scarcely-meeting  beams  : 
Some  unknown  obstacle  there  seems. 

And  conquer  it  he  must. 
He  strains  his  utmost  strength,  the  sweat 

Is  beading  on  his  brow  : 
It    creaks — it    yields  !       O    Constance, 
smile, 

The  door  is  open  now  1 

XXV. 

From  her  cheek  the  flush  hath  faded, 

As  fades  the  evening  glow, 
In  pristine  whiteness  leaving 

The  rosy  Alpine  snow. 
And  like  a  breeze  of  twilight 

The  aspen-leaves  among, 
A  whisper  falls  upon  his  ear 

From  quivering  lip  and  tongue  : 

XXVI. 

'  Farewell !     Oh,  thou  hast  saved  me  1 ' 

And  the  hand  so  white  and  cold, 
With  lingering  clasp  of  gratitude, 

Her  wordless  thanks  hath  told. 
One  moment  on  that  small,  fair  hand 

His  youthful  lips  are  pressed  ; 
There  is  a  reverence  in  his  eye, 
For  grief  and  beauty  both  are  nigh  ; 
She  passes  like  a  spirit  by, 

To  seek  her  cheerless  rest. 


CONSTANCE   DE  V- 


XXVII. 

They  are  parted,  like  the  dewdrops 

That  linger  in  the  smile 
Of  a  storm-begotten  rainbow, 

But  for  a  little  while  : 
Then  one  in  lonely  dimness 

To  earth  may  soon  descend  ; 
And  one  with  the  bright  sky  above, 

Though  all  unseen,  may  blend. 

XXVIII. 

The  young  abbe  hath  paused  in  vain 

To  hear  her  footstep  pass  ; 
'Twas  lighter  than  the  noiseless  fall 

Of  rose-leaf  on  the  grass. 
No  sound  is  heard  but  the  pattering  rain, 

And  he  slowly  turns  away, 
With   the  brown  old  books  beneath  his 

gown, 
To  meet  his  abbot's  gathering  frown, 

For  loitering  on  the  way. 

XXIX. 

Think  you  he  conned  the  loveless  lore 

Without  a  thoughtful  sigh 
For  the  loveliness  in  sorrow, 

Which  passed  so  trance-like  by  ? 
Among  the  missal  borders 

Was  no  such  angel-face  ; 
And  such,  once  seen,  fade  not  away  ; 
Their  image  shines  without  decay, 
When  on  the  canvas  of  the  heart, 
With  untaught  skill,  yet  mystic  art, 

Each  line  of  light  we  trace. 


The  wing  of  Time  seems  broken  now, 

So  tardy  is  his  flight  ; 
He  deems  by  day  that  she  is  dead, 

He  dreams  she  lives,  by  night 


Till  quick  anxiety  hath  found 

A  messenger  to  bear 
The  tidings  that  he  strove  to  frame, 

From  woven  hope  and  fear. 

XXXI. 

What  wonder  that  he  heard  not 

Her  footfall  on  the  stone  ! 
She  sank  beneath  the  cloister  wall, 

Unheeded  and  alone ; 
And  ere  Charles  Maurice  stood  again 

Beneath  the  open  sky, 
For  ever  on  the  things  of  earth 

She  closed  her  weary  eye. 

XXXII. 

Constance,  the  beautiful,  hath  left 

Her  dismal  convent  cell ; 
She  hath  not  known  one  hope  fulfilled, 
One  granted  joy,  one  longing  stilled. 
For  her  the  melody  of  life 
Was  but  one  chord  of  inward  strife, 

Was  but  one  ruthless  knell. 
Her  heart  bedimmed  with  sameness, 

Her  only  wish  denied, 
Oh,  what  a  mockery  it  were 
Her  lot  should  such  a  title  bear, 
'  Heaven's  own  appointed  bride  !' 

XXXIII. 

Why  should  her  early  spring-time 

Be  quenched  in  wintry  gloom  ? 
Was  it  not  merciful  and  wise 
To  call  her  spirit  to  the  skies 

From  such  a  living  tomb  ? 
How  might  that  gentle  maiden 

Have  scattered  joy  around, 
And  made  the  earth  a  brighter  place, 
For  all  her  radiance  and  grace  ! 
But  now,  unsorrowed  and  unknown, 
Her  only  memory  is  a  stone 

Within  the  convent  bound. 


66 


THE   MINISTRY    OF   SONG. 


FAIRY  HOMES. 

I'VE  found  at  last  the  hiding-place 
Where  the  fairy  people  dwell, 

And  to  win  the  secrets  of  their  race 
I  hold  the  long-sought  spell. 

With  the  woodland  fairies  I  can  talk, 

I  can  list  their  silvery  lays  ; 
Oh  !  pleasant  in  a  lonely  walk 

Is  the  company  of  fays. 

No  fabled  fancy  'tis  to  me, 

For  in  every  floweret's  bell 
Is  a  tiny  chamber,  where  I  see 

A  gentle  fairy  dwell. 

And  at  my  bidding  forth  they  come, 

To  soothe  me  or  to  cheer, 
And  to  tell  me  tales  of  fairydom 

With  voices  soft  and  clear. 

Full  many  a  beauteous  lesson,  too, 

Their  rosy  lips  can  teach  ; 
Great  men  would  wonder  if  they  knew 

How  well  the  fairies  preach  ! 

When  thoughts  of  sorrow  sadden  me, 

They  seem  to  sympathize, 
And  gaze  upon  me  lovingly, 

With  tender,  earnest  eyes  ; 

But  when  a  tide  of  joyous  glee 
Is  bringing  song  and  smile, 

Then  brightly  they  look  up  to  me, 
And  laugh  with  me  a  while. 

Oh  !  lovely  are  the  floweret  homes 
Of  these  sweet  summer  fays  ; 

God's  thoughts  of  beauty  taking  form 
To  gladden  mortal  gaze. 


MORE  MUSIC. 

OH  for  a  burst  of  song, 
Exultant,  deep,  and  strong, 
One  gush  of  music's  billowy  might, 
To  bear  my  soul  away 
Into  the  realms  of  day, 
From    these  dim  glacier-caves   of  Life's 
cold  night ! 

Oh  for  a  sunset  strain 
Wafted  o'er  slumberous  main, 
To  enter,  spirit-like,  my  prisoned  heart, 
And  there,  with  viewless  hand, 
Unloose  each  mortal  band, 
That  in  the  songs  of  heaven  I  too  might 
learn  a  part. 

The  sweetest  music  here 
Calls  forth  the  quiet  tear, 
For  grief  and  gladness  flow  in  blended 

stream  ; 

Oh  for  the  joyous  day, 
(Can  it  be  far  away?) 
When  one  great  Alleluia  song'  shall  chase 
Life's  tuneless  dream  ! 


TRAVELLING  THOUGHTS. 

ON  BOARD  THE  STEAMER  LA  FRANCE,  JAN- 
UARY 26,  l866. 

A  STILL  grey  haze  around  us, 

Behind,  a  foreign  shore, 
A  still  grey  deep  beneath  us, 

And  Dover  cliffs  before. 
Not  one  within  a  hundred  miles 

Whose  name  I  ever  heard, 
None  who  would  care  to  speak  to  me 

A  passing  friendly  word  : 
Yet  not  a  shadow  crosseth  me 

Of  loneliness  or  fear  ; 


I'VE   FOUND   AT   LAST  THE   HIDING-PLACE 
WHERE   THE    FAIRY    PEOPLE    DWELL, 

AND   TO    WIN    THE    SECRETS    OF  THEIR    RACE 
I    HOLD    THE    LONG-SOUGHT    SPELL. 


Page  66. 


TRAVELLING   THOUGHTS. 


I  bless  the  Omnipresent  One, 
I  know  that  God  is  here. 


All  whom  I  love  are  scattered  : 

And  many  a  month  and  mile 
Rise,  mountain-like,  before,  behind, 

Between  me  and  their  smile. 
Oh  that  the  love  I  bear  them 

Might  blossom  into  skill 
To  comfort  and  to  brighten, 

And  all  with  gladness  fill ! 
Ah  !  helpless  love  !     Yet  'tis  a  joy 

To  turn  each  wish  to  prayer, 
And,  where  each  loved  one  sojourneth, 

To  know  that  God  is  there. 


The  nearest  and  the  dearest 

Are  where  the  rushing  Rhine 
Bends  northward  from  the  Drachenfels, 

From  castle,  rock  and  vine  ; 
Where  long-lined  chestnut  shadows 

Make  tracery  below, 
And  the  moss- framed  window  challenges 

The  might  of  frost  and  snow. 
Lit  rather  by  the  dawn  of  heaven 

Than  earthly  sunset  glow, 
That  passing  home  of  faith  and  prayer  ! 

Oh,  God  is  there,  I  know  ! 

From  thence  the  wing  of  loving  thought 

Speeds  on  where  Severn  flows, 
And  hovers  o'er  as  fair  a  scene 

As  our  fair  England  knows  ; 
The  home  of  summer  roses, 

Of  winter  mirth  and  glee, — 
Long  may  that  home  unbroken, 

That  mirth  unsilenced  be  ! 
The  blessings  of  unbounded  grace 

I  pray  Him  to  bestow, 


And  trust  Him  for  the  coming  years, 
For  He  is  there,  I  know. 

Now  westward  sweeps  the  visiou____ 

Across  the  Irish  Sea, 
And  echoes  low  of  sisters'  love 

Come  back  again  to  me. 
A  beacon  bright  in  stormy  night 

Of  error,  rage,  and  wrong, 
That  home  of  love  and  truth  shall  cast 

Its  radiance  pure  and  strong. 
They  tell  of  rumors  strange  and  dark  ; 

But  oh  !  no  need  to  fear  ! 
God  will  not  leave  His  own,  I  know, 

His  guardian  hand  is  near. 

Another  scene  by  gentle  Ouse 

Must  aye  be  dear  to  me, 
Though  all  are  not  together  now, 

And  one  is  on  the  sea. 
And  where  a  grey  cathedral  tower 

Uprises  broad  and  high, 
A  home  is  made  in  cloistral  shade, 

Beside  the  winding  Wye. 
To  seek  the  richest  boons  for  these, 

Why  should  the  heart  be  slow  ? 
One   Shepherd,    Chief,   and   Great,    and 
Good, 

Is  watching  there,  I  know. 

Then,  in  a  busy  city, 

A  crypt  all  dark  and  lone, 
A  name  engraven  on  our  hearts 

Is  traced  upon  a  stone. 
Not  there  the  sainted  spirit ! 

She  dwells  in  holy  light, 
Within  the  pearl-raised  portals, 

With  those  who  walk  in  white. 
May  all  her  children  follow 

The  path  she  meekly  trod, 
And  reach  the  home  she  rests  in  now, 

And  dwell,  like  her,  with  God. 


68 


THE   MINISTRY   OF   SONG. 


NEW-FEAR'S  WISHES. 

A  PEARL-STREWN  pathway  of  untold  glad- 
ness, 

Flecked  by  no  gloom,  by  no  weary  sad- 
ness, 

Such  be  the  year  to  thee  ! 
A  crystal  rivulet,  sunlight  flinging, 
Awakening  blossoms,  and  joyously  singing 
Its  own  calm  melody. 

A  symphony  soft,  and  sweet,  and  low, 
Like  the  gentlest  music  the  angels  know 

In  their  moments  of  deepest  joy ; 
''Mid  earth's  wild  clamor  thy  spirit  telling 
Of  beauty  and  holiness,  upward  swelling, 

And  mingling  with  the  sky. 

A  radiant,  fadeless  Eden  flower, 
Unfolding  in  loveliness  hour  by  hour, 

Like  a  wing-veiled  seraph's  face  ; — 
Such  be  the  opening  year  to  thee, 
Shrouded  though  all  its  moments  be, 
Unknown  as  the  bounds  of  space. 

Blessings  unspoken  this  year  be  thine  ! 
Each  day  in  its  rainbow  flight  entwine 

New  gems  in  thy  joy-wreathed  crown  ; 
May  each  in  the  smile  of  Him  be  bright, 
Who  is  changeless  Love  and  unfading 

Light, 
Till  the  glory  seem  to  thy  tranced  sight 

As  heaven  to  earth  come  down. 


BONNIE  WEE  ERIC. 

BONNIE  wee  Eric  !  I  have  sat  beside  the 

evening  fire, 
And   listened   to  the   leaping  flame  still 

darting  keenly  higher, 


And  all  the  while  a  lisping  voice  and  eyes 

of  sunny  blue 
Out-whispered    the    flame-whisper,    and 

outshone  the  flicker  too. 

Bonnie  wee  Eric  !  To  his  home  thoughts 

pleasantly  return, 
To  long  fair  evenings  in  the  land  of  ben 

and  brae  and  burn  ; 
Sweet  northern  words,   so  tunefully  upon 

our  Saxon  flung, 
As  if  a  mountain  breeze  swept  by  where 

fairy-bells  are  hung. 

But  sweeter  tnan  all  fairy  bells  of  quaint 

sweet  minstrel  tongue, 
Rang  out  wee  Eric's  gentlest  tone  when 

o'er  his  cot  I  hung, 
And   told  him  in  the  sunset  glow  once 

more  the  old  dear  story 
Of  Him   who  walked  the  earth  that  we 

might  walk  with  Him  in  glory. 

'  He  loves  the  little  children   so  ; — does 

darling  Eric  love  Him  ?' 
I   think  the  angels  must  have  smiled  a 

rainbow-smile  above  him, 
Yet   hardly   brighter  than  his  own,   that 

lit  the  answer  true, 
'  Jesus,  the  kind,  good  Jesus  1     Me   do, 

oh  yes,  me  do  !' 

Bonnie  wee  Eric  !     How  the  thought  of 

heaven  is  full  of  joy, 
And  death  has  not  a  shadow  for  the  merry 

healthful  boy  ! 
To  hear  about  the  happy  home  he  gladly 

turns  away 
From  picture  books,  or  Noah's  ark,  or  any 

game  of  play. 


MY   SWEET   WOODRUFF. 


'  Mamma,  some  day  me  die,  and  then  the 

angels  take  me  home 
To  Jesus,   and  me  sing  to  Him ; — Papa 

and  you  too  come. ' 
So  brightly  said  \     'But,  Eric,  would  you 

really  like  to  die  ?' 
She   answered   him  ;    '  then,  darling,  tell 

mamma  the  reason  why  ?' 

And  then  the  sunny  eyes  looked  up,  and 
seemed  at  once  to  be 

Filled  with  a  happy  solemn  light  like  sun- 
rise on  the  sea  ; 

He  said — 'Yes,  me  would  like  to  die,  for 
me  know  where  me  going  I ' 

What  saint-like  longing,  baby  lips  !  and 
oh  !  what  blessed  knowing  ! 

le  lesson  of  the  '  little  child  '  is  sweetly 
learnt  from  him  ; 

Jo  questioning,  no  anxious  faith  all  trem- 
ulous and  dim, 

To  drowsy  love  that  hardly  knows  if  it  be 
love  indeed  ; 

lot  '  think  '  or  '  hope '  but— '  Oh  me  do, ' 
— '  me  know' — his  simple  creed. 

>nnie  wee  Eric  !     Hardly  launched  on 

this  world's  troubled  sea, 
re  know  the  little  bark  is  safe  whate'er  its 

course  may  be ; 
id  short  or  long,  or  fair  or  rough,  our 

hearts  are  glad  in  knowing 
will  be  onward,  heavenward  still,  for  he 

'  knows  where  he's  going.  '    • 


MY  SWEET  WOODRUFF. 
To  more  the  flowers  of  spring  are  seen, 
id  silence  fills  the  summer  noon  ; 
is  woods  have  lost  the  fresh  bright  green 
Of  May  and  June. 


But  yesterday  I  found  a  flower, 
Deep  sheltered  from  the  withering  rays, 
Which  might  have   known   the  sun   and 
shower 

Of  April  days. 

I  did  not  think  again  to  find 
Such  tender  relic  of  the  spring ; 
It  thrilled  such  gladness  through  my  mind, 
I  needs  must  sing. 

My  girlhood's  spring  has  passed  for  aye, 
With  many  a  fairy  tint  and  tone  ; 
The  heat  and  burden  of  the  day 
Are  better  known. 

But  by  my  summer  path  has  sprung 
A  flower  of  happy  love,  as  fair 
As  e'er  a  subtle  fragrance  flung 
On  Spring's  clear  air. 

I  hardly  thought  to  feel  again 
Such  dewy  freshness  in  my  heart, 
And  so  one  little  loving  strain 
Must  upward  start 

There  was  spring-sunshine  in  my  eyes, 
I  had  such  joy  in  finding  you 
So  full  of  all  I  love  and  prize, 
So  dear  and  true. 

My  heart  is  richer  far  to-day 
Than  when  I  came  a  week  ago ; 
How  near  to  me  such  treasure  lay 
I  did  not  know  ! 

The  long  parenthesis  is  o'er, 
And  now,  in  letters  all  of  light 
The  story  of  our  love  once  more 
We  both  may  write. 


THE    MINISTRY    OF    SONG. 


I  have  no  words  to  breathe  the  praise 
Which  now  for  this  '  good  gift '  I  owe  ; 
A  wordless  anthem  I  must  raie, 
But  HE  will  know. 


OUR  GEM  WREATH. 

m 

HEARD  ye  the  sounds  of  joyous  glee, 

And  the  notes  of  merry  minstrelsy, 

And  the  purling  of  low,  sweet  words  which 

start 

From  the  silent  depths  of  a  loving  heart ; 
And  the  gushing  laugh,  and  the  rippling 

song, 
As  the  summer  days  sped  swift  along  ? 

Saw  ye  the  gleam  of  sunny  hair, 
And  the  glancing  of  forms  yet  young  and 

fair, 

And  the  dancing  light  of  happy  eyes, 
And  smiles  like  the  rosy  morning  skies 
Saw  ye  and  heard  ?  and  would  ye  not  know 
What  made  such  mirth  and  music  flow? 

There  were  maidens  five,  as  blithe  and  free 
As  the  curbless  waves  of  the  open  sea  : 
They  met ; — ye  may  liken  their  early  greet- 
ing 

To  the  dewdrops  on  a  roseleaf  meeting  ; 
Then  many  a  day  flew  uncounted  by, 
With  Love  like  an  angel  hovering  nigh, 
While  the  ruby  light  of  his  sparkling  wing 
Flung  a  tint  of  joy  on  everything. 
*  In  books,  or  works,  or  healthful  play,' 
As  the  merriest  lips  would  often  say, 
Or  in  strange  attempts  to  weave  a  spell 
Which  might  bid  the  Muses  among  them 

dwell, 

Or  in  a  stream  of  mingled  song, 
Some  of  their  hours  have  passed  along  ; 
Bearing  the  sound  of  each  pleasant  lay, 
And  the  echo  of  many  a  laugh,  away. 


When  the  burning  day  is  on  the  wane, 
They  wander    through  some    darkening 

lane, 

In  quieter  converse  lingering  awhile 
Neath  the  arching  roof  of  its  shadowy  aisle. 
Where  the  latest  sunbeams  kiss  the  brow 
Of  Malvern's  Beacon,  see  them  now  ; 
Springing  o'er  moss-bed,  and  rock,   and 

stone, 
As  though  the  green  earth  were  all   their 

own  ; 

And  singing  forth  to  the  fair  wide  scene, 
In  a  loyal  chorus,  '  God  save  the  Queen  /' 

Again,  from  out  the  busy  street, 
They  pass  with  gladly  reverent  feet 
Within  the  old  cathedral's  shade ; 
And  feel  the  sacred  silence  laid 
Upon  the  lips,  upon  the  heart, 
By  time  and  place  thus  '  set  apart. ' 
Then  the  anthem  fills  the  glorious  fane, 
Till  its  solemn  tones  float  back  again, 
Round  arch  and  column  the  sound  en- 
wreathing, 

Till    they  seem  with  holy  music  breath- 
ing,— 

Music  and  love  ;  while  the  choral  praise 
Images  better  and  holier  days. 

Yet  once  again  ; — with  low  bent  head, 
They   are    kneeling  where  the    Feast   is 

spread  ; 

Not  one  is  absent,  all  are  there, 
Its  silent  blessedness  to  share. 
Well  may  a  bond  of  love  be  felt, 
When  thus  together  they  have  knelt. 

Would  ye  know  the  maidens  five,  oh  say  • 
The  meek,  the  merry,  the  grave,  the  gay  : 
Each  jewel  of  all  the  sunlit  cluster 
Shines  with  its  own  unborrowed  lustre ; — 
Then  listen  and  gaze,  while  each  shall  pass, 
As  a  half  seen  vision  in  magic  glass. 


OUR   GEM   WREATH. 


A  quiet  summer  evening,  when  the  day- 
beams'  heat  and  glare 

Have  passed  away,  and  coolness  comes 
upon  the  cloudless  air, 

And  the  soft  grey  twilight  wakes  the  stars 
to  glisten  o'er  the  hill, 

And  the  only  vesper-chime  is  rung  by  one 
low-murmuring  rill : 

Like  such  an  evening  is  the  soul  of  that 
one  dark-eyed  maid, 

Amid  earth's  restless  turmoil  like  a  calm 
and  pleasant  shade  ; 

So  soothing  and  so  gently  sweet  her  words 
of  deep  love  fall 

Upon  the  weaned  spirit,  like  the  ring- 
dove's forest  call. 

Well  hath  she  learnt  to  sympathize  with 

every  hope  and  fear, 
Well  hath  she  learnt  the  sorrowing  heart 

to  brighten  and  to  cheer ; 
Long  years  of  weary  weakness  have  not 

passed  away  in  vain, 
If  the  holy  art  of  sympathy  they  taught 

her  to  attain. 

Her  fairy  footstep  falleth  as  a  noiseless 
flake  of  snow, 

So  violet-like  and  still  that  we  her  presence 
hardly  know  ; 

But  like  a  gleaming  vessel-path,  far  glit- 
tering through  the  night, 

She  leaves  a  memory  behind  of  soft  and 
silvery  light. 

Within  the  crystal  cavern  of  retirement  ye 

find 
That  gem  of  inward  radiance,  her  '  meek 

and  quiet '  mind  ; 


Not  like  the  flashing  topaz,  or  the  ruby's 

gorgeous  glow, 
She  is  a  precious  AMETHYST,  whose  value 

well  we  know. 

n. 

Now  turn  we  to  that  merry  maiden, 
With  azure  eye,  and  smooth  bright  hair  ; 
A  lily  blossom,  fragrance-laden, 
Is  not  more  fair. 

A  dewdrop  to  the  thirsty  flower, 
A  sun-ray  gilding  every  cloud, 
A  rainbow  when  the  thunder-shower 
Is  rushing  loud ; 

A  spirit  full  of  pleasant  brightness, 

That   speaks   from  lip,  and  cheek,    and 

brow, 

To  whose  glad  spell  of  cheering  lightness 
E'en  grief  must  bow. 

Her    hand   hath   learnt   with    wondrous 

power 

Scenes  of  rare  loveliness  to  trace, 
And  picture  forms  with  airy  dower 
Of  beauteous  grace. 

The  breath  of  flattery  hath  not  tainted 
Her    simple    thought  with    pride's    dark 

stain  : 

Because  her  leaves  are  richly  painted, 
Is  the  rose  vain  ? 

Then,  as  an  orient  EMERALD  shining, 
Long  may  her  loveliness  be  set 
Among  the  sister-gems,  entwining 
Our  coronet. 

in. 

Say,  who  shall  form  the  vision-centre  now? 
She  of  the  large,  soft  eye,  and    pensive 
smile, 


THE   MINISTRY   OF   SONG. 


She  of  the  earnest  gaze,  and  thoughtful 

brow  : 
Who   would  not  love  to  read  her  looks 

awhile, 

Or  list  that  often  silent  voice,  whose  flow 
Like  distant  waterfall  is  heard,  so  sweet 

and  low  ? 

Not  many  summers  o'er  her  youth  have 

cast 
Their   varying   sun  and  shade,    and   we 

might  deem 
No  breath  of  sadness  o'er  her  soul  had 

passed, 
But  for  that  orb  subdued,  like  some  lone 

stream, 
Where   the  sad  willows   rest  in  shadowy 

love, 
While   its  blue  depth  reflects  the   sunlit 

heaven  above. 

All   calmness,  yet  deep  sorrow  she  hath 

known, 
Dimming  the  star  of  hope  which  shone 

so  clear, 
The  song  of  life  hath  changed  its  joyous 

tone, 

The  pearl  of  life  hath  melted  to  a  tear  ; 
But  star  and  song  shall  rise  in  brighter 

day, 
And  hers  that  priceless  Pearl  which  none 

may  take  away. 

Her  sorrow,  all  unspoken,  doth  but  twine 
Our  earnest  love  more  changelessly  around 

her ; 
While  we  look  onward,  upward,  for  the 

time 
When  Joy's  fair  garland  shall  again  have 

crowned  her, 


Who  as  the  PEARL  of  all  our  wreath  is 

gleaming, 
In  mild  and  moonlit  radiance  softly  'mid 

us  beaming. 

IV. 

Like  a  flash  of  meteor  light, 
Strangely  gladdening  and  bright, 
Is  the  youngest  of  the  band, 
Making  every  heart  expand. 

Like  a  petrel  on  the  wave, 
What  to  her  though  tempests  rave  ? 
She  will  skim  each  foamy  crest, 
Making  all  around  her  blest. 

Like  a  song-bird  of  the  spring, 
She  is  ever  on  the  wing  ; 
Carolling  in  blithest  glee, 
Like  the  wild  breeze,  fresh  and  free. 

Like  a  beautiful  gazelle 
Bounding  over  hill  and  dell  ; 
Like  the  scented  hawthorn-flowers, 
Ever  scattering  blossom-showers. 

Can  a  star  of  light  be  found, 
Shedding  aught  but  light  around  ? 
Joy  and  gladness  must  be  nigh, 
Where  her  starry  pinions  fly. 

Clear  and  open  as  the  day, 
All  may  trust  her  glancing  ray, 
All  must  love  its  rainbow  light  : 
Is  she  not  a  DIAMOND  bright  ? 


And  the  last  maiden,  — what  is  she  ? 
She  sees  not  herself  as  others  see, 

From  an  outward  point  of  view ; 
She  only  knows  the  scenes  within, 


MY  NAME. 


73 


The  weary  conflict,  and  the  sin, 
The  strivings  a  better  life  to  win, 
And  the  gleams  of  gladness  too. 

But  little  she  knows  of  the  secret  cells, 
Where  in  lonely  twilight  the  spirit  dwells 

In  an  ever  mysterious  home, 
Where  music,  and  beauty,  and  sweet  per- 
fume, 
Grim   storms,    and  the  blackness  of  the 

tomb, 
In   morning   brightness,    and    midnight 

gloom, 
In  an  untracked  labyrinth  roam. 

How  many  a  chamber  within  is  sealed  ! 
How  wondrous  the  little  that  is  revealed 

In  a  scarce-caught  whispering  tone  ! 
Strange  thoughts  come  forth  to  our  outer 

gaze, 

Wild  fancies  flash  with  spectral  rays, 
And  feelings  glow  with  uncertain  blaze ; 

But  their  fountain  is  all  unknown. 

Ah !  she  would  long  to  glean  a  ray 
From  each  lovely  gem  of  this  summer  lay, 

For  her  own  are  faint  and  few. 
The  tremulous  OPAL'S  changeful  light 
May  emblem  her,  now  dark,  now  bright, 
Yet  blending   in   love  with   each    sister 
sprite 

In  a  union  fond  and  true. 


Such  are  the  five  as  now  they  seem 

In  the  golden  haze  of  Memory's  dream. 

But  the  future  !  who  may  lift  the  veil 

And  read  its  yet  unwritten  tale  ! 

The  rose,  or  the  thorn,  the  sun,  the  cloud, 

The  gleeful  heart,  or  the  spirit  bowed, 

The  song  of  joy,  or  the  wail  of  woe, 

Which  shall  be  theirs,  we  may  not  know. 


Then  sorrow  and  joy  alike  we  leave 

In  the  Hand   which  doeth  all  things 

well, 
And  calmly  from  that  Hand  receive 

All  that  each  coming  year  may  tell. 
Our  jewel-garland  lives  by  Him  ; 

We  would  not  ask  of  Life  or  Death, 
Who  first  shall  break  its  shining  rim ; 

It  shall  be  as  the  Master  saith  : 
He  only  shall  untwine  the  bond, 
So  fair  and  faithful,  fresh  and  fond. 
But  oh  that  each  who  glistens  now 

In  this  verse-woven  coronet, 
Upon  the  Saviour's  thorn-wreathed  brow 

May  as  a  living  gem  be  set ! 
Then  never  shall  their  light  grow  dim  ; 
Redeemed  and  sanctified  by  Him, 
Their  life  and  love  in  blended  rays 
Shall  shine  in  everlasting  praise. 


MF  NAMES 

FROM  childish  days  I  never  heard 

My  own  baptismal  name  ; 
Too  small,  too  slight,  too  full  of  glee 
Aught  else  but  '  Little  Fan  '  to  be, 
The  stately  '  Frances '  not  in  me 
Could  any  fitness  claim. 

Now  in  the  crowded  halls  of  life, 

May  it  be  mine  to  bring 
Some  gentle  stir  of  the  heated  air, 
Some  coolness  falling  fresh  and  fair, 

Like  a  passing  angel's  wing. 

My  father's  name,  — oh  how  I  love 

Its  else  unwonted  look  ! 
For  his  dear  sake  right  dear  I  hold 


1  Suggested  by  the  question,   '  What  does  the 
letter  R  in  your  initials  (F.  R.  H.)  represent  ?  * 


74 


THE   MINISTRY   OF   SONG. 


Each  letter,  changed,  as  he  has  told, 
Long  since  from  early  Saxon  mould — 
'The  rising  of  the  brook/  * 

Of  music,  holiness,  and  love 
That  name  will  always  tell, 

While  sacred  chant  and  anthem  rise, 

Or  mourners  live  whose  deepest  sighs 

To  echoes  of  a  Father's  will 

He  tuned,  or  child,  or  grandchild  still 
On  his  bright  memory  dwell. 

But  '  what  the  R  doth  represent, ' 

I  value  and  revere  ; 
A  diamond  clasp  it  seems  to  be 
On  golden  chains  enlinking  me 
In  loyal  love  to  England's  hope, 
Bulwark  'gainst  infidel  and  Pope, 

The  Church  I  hold  so  dear. 

Three  hundred  years  ago  was  one 

Who  held  with  stedfast  hand 
The  chalice  of  the  truth  of  God, 
And  poured  its  crystal  stream  abroad 
Upon  the  thirsting  land. 

The  moderate,  the  wise,  the  calm, 
The  learned,  brave,  and  good, 2 
A  guardian  of  the  sacred  ark, 
A  burning  light  in  places  dark, 
For  cruel,  changeless  Rome  a  mark, 
Our  Bishop  RIDLEY  stood. 

The  vengeance  of  that  foe  nought  else 
But  fiery  doom  could  still : 


1  '  Heavergill ' — the  heaving  or  rising  of  the 
brook,  or  gill. 

2  '  A  man  beautified  with  such  excellent  qual- 
ities, so  ghostly  inspired  and  godly  learned,  and 
now  written  doubtless  in  the  book  of  life  with 
the  blessed  saints  of  the  Almighty,  crowned  and 
throned  amongst  the  glorious  company  of  mar- 
tyrs.— Foxe's  Acts  and  Monuments. 


Too  surely  fell  the  lightning  stroke 
Upon  that  noble  English  oak, 
Whose  acorn-memory  survives 
In  forest  ranks  of  earnest  lives 
And  martyr-souls  in  will. 

Rome  offered  life  for  faith  laid  down  : 

Such  ransom  paid  not  he  ! 
'  As  long  as  breath  is  in  this  frame, 
My  Lord  and  Saviour  Christ  His  name 
And  His  known  truth  I'll  not  deny  : ' 
He  said  (and  raised  his  head  on  high), 

1  God's  will  be  done  in  me. '  l 

He  knelt  and  prayed,  and  kissed  the  stake, 

And  blessed  his  Master's  name 
That  he  was  called  his  cross  to  take, 
And  counted  worthy  for  His  sake 
To  suffer  death  and  shame. a 

Though  fierce  the  fire  and  long  the  pain, 

The  martyr's  God  was  nigh  ; 
Till  from  that  awful  underglow 
Of  torture  terrible  and  slow, 
Above  the  weeping  round  about, 
Once  more  the  powerful  voice  rang  out, 

His  Saviour's  own  last  cry. 

O  faithful  unto  death  !  the  crown 

Was  shining  on  thy  brow, 
Before  the  ruddy  embers  paling, 
And  sobbing  after-gusts  of  wailing 
Had  died  away,  and  left  in  silence 
That  truest  shrine  of  British  Islands, 

That  spot  so  sacred  now  ! 

In  dear  old  England  shineth  yet 

The  candle  lit  that  day  ; 
Right  clear  and  strong  its  flames  arise, 


1  See  Works  of  Bishop  Ridley,  Parker  Society, 
pp.  295  and  296. 

2  Ibid. 


FAITH   AND   REASON. 


75 


Undimmed,  unchanged,  toward  the  skies, 
By  God's  good  grace  it  never  dies, 
A  living  torch  for  aye. 

Tis  said  that  while  he  calmly  stood 

And  waited  for  the  flame, 
He  gave  each  trifle  that  he  had, 
True  relic-treasure,  dear  and  sad, 

To  each  who  cared  to  claim. 
I  was  not  there  to  ask  a  share, 
But  reverently  for  ever  wear 

That  noble  martyr's  name. 


FAITH  AND  REASON. 

REASON  unstrings  the  harp  to  see 

Wherein  the  music  dwells  ; 
Faith  pours  a  Hallelujah  song, 

And  heavenly  rapture  swells. 
While  Reason  strives  to  count  the  drops 

That  lave  our  narrow  strand, 
Faith  launches  o'er  the  mighty  deep, 

To  seek  a  better  land. 

One  is  the  foot  that  slowly  treads 

WThere  darkling  mists  enshroud  ; 
The  other  is  the  wing  that  cleaves 

Each  heaven-obscuring  cloud. 
Reason,  the  eye  which  sees  but  that 

On  which  its  glance  is  cast  ; 
Faith  is  the  thought  that  blends  in  one 

The  Future  and  the  Past. 

In  hours  of  darkness,  Reason  waits, 

Like  those  in  days  of  yore, 
Who    rose    not    from    their   night-bound 
place, 

On  dark  Egyptian  shore. 
But  Faith  more  firmly  clasps  the  hand 

Which  led  her  all  the  day, 
And  when  the  wished  for  morning  dawns, 

Is  farther  on  her  way. 


By  Reason's  alchemy  in  vain 

Is  golden  treasure  planned ; 
Faith  meekly  takes  a  priceless  crown, 

Won  by  no  mortal  hand. 
While  Reason  is  the  laboring  oar 

That  smites  the  wrathful  seas, 
Faith  is  the  snowy  sail  spread  out 

To  catch  the  freshening  breeze. 

Reason,  the  telescope  that  scans 

A  universe  of  light  ; 
But  Faith,  the  angel  who  may  dwell 

Among  those  regions  bright. 
Reason,  a  lonely  towering  elm, 

May  fall  before  the  blast  ; 
Faith,  like  the  ivy  on  the  rock, 

Is  safe  in  clinging  fast. 

While  Reason,  like  a  Levite,  waits 

Where  priest  and  people  meet, 
Faith,  by  a  '  new  and  living  way, ' 

Hath  gained  the  mercy-seat. 
While  Reason  but  returns  to  tell 

That  this  is  not  our  rest, 
Faith,  like  a  weary  dove,  hath  sought 

A  gracious  Saviour's  breast. 

Yet  both  are  surely  precious  gifts 

From  Him  who  leads  us  home  ; 
Though  in  the  wilds  Himself  hath  trod 

A  little  while  we  roam. 
And,  linked  within  the  soul  that  knows 

A  living,  loving  Lord, 
Faith  strikes  the  key-note,  Reason  then 

Fills  up  the  full-toned  chord. 

Faith  is  the  upward-pointing  spire 
O'er  life's  great  temple  springing, 

From  which  the  chimes  of  love  float  forth, 
Celestially  ringing  ; 

While  Reason  stands  below  upon 
The  consecrated  ground, 


THE   MINISTRY   OF   SONG. 


And,  like  a  mighty  buttress,  clasps 
The  wide  foundation  round. 

Faith  is  the  bride  that  stands  enrobed 

In  white  and  pure  array  ; 
Reason,  the  handmaid  who  may  share 

The  gladness  of  the  day. 
Faith  leads  the  way,  and  Reason  learns 

To  follow  in  her  train  ; 
Till,  step  by  step,  the  goal  is  reached 

And  death  is  glorious  gain. 


LYNTON. 

WHY  does  it  seem  familiar  ground  ? 

I  was  never  here  before  ; 
I  never  saw  this  fairy  dream 
Of  wood  and  wave,  of  rock  and  stream, 
Nor  watched  the  snowy  foam -line  gleam 

On  Devon's  bay-loved  shore. 

It  feels  as  weird  and  strange  as  though 

My  spirit  had  been  here ; 
And  in  the  mists  of  long  ago 
An  outline  wavers  to  and  fro, 
Now  colorless,  now  all  aglow, 

Now  faint,  now  wondrous  clear. 

I  know  it  now — the  tender  spell 
On  all  this  pleasant  scene ; 
For  memory's  first  pale  flickering  light 
Falls  on  a  long-forgotten  night, 
Though   conscious   life-time,    dark    and 
bright, 
Lies  all  outstretched  between. 

The  dearest  name  I  ever  spoke 

Was  on  my  lips  that  eve  ; 
We  gave  her  '  welcome  home '  once  more, 
Unknown,  the  last  short  absence  o'er  : 
And  now  she  is  but  'gone  before/ 

The  palm  branch  to  receive. 


I  know  it  now,  — she  told  me  all ; 

I  sat  upon  her  knee, 
And  heard  about  the  cliff  so  tall, 
The  craggy  path,  the  rocky  wall, 
The  ever-chanting  waterfall, 

The  silver  autumn  sea  : 

The  steep  and  dangerous  way  above, 
The  winding  dell  beneath  ; 

The  rushing  Lyn,  the  shadowy  trees. 

The  hills  that  breast  the  Channel-breeze, 

The  white  ships  bound  for  western  seas  ; 
One  shining  marvel-wreath  ! 

A  little  picture  she  had  brought 

Of  Lynton's  lovely  vale  : 
I  fastened  it  upon  my  wall, 
Half  deeming  I  had  seen  it  all  ; 
While  colors  came  at  fancy's  call 

To  deck  those  outlines  pale. 

Hers  then  the  charm,  so  strangely  sweet, 

Which  made  me  sit  and  gaze  ; 
'Tis  like  a  breeze  from  far-otf  hills, 
Or  midnight  anthem  of  wild  rills, 
That  cools  the  fever-fire  which  fills 
Our  hot  and  hurried  days. 

It  may  be  that  the  parting  time 

Has  more  than  half  gone  by, 
That  ere  another  twenty  years 
Have  mingled  all  their  smiles  and  tears, 
We  may  have  passed  all  griefs  and  fears, 
And  her  dear  welcome  greet  our  ears 
To  her  blest  home  on  high. 

Oh,  might  it  be  !     That  far-off  land 

Is  all  unseen  as  yet : 
But  when  we  pass  its  portals  fair, 
It  may  be  that  some  glory  there 
Sweetly  familiar  shall  appear, 
Because  we  heard  it  whispered  here 


A   LULL   IN    LIFE. 


77 


By  that  soft  voice,  whose  accents  dear 
We  never  can  forget. 


A  BIRTHDAY  GREETING  TO  MY 
FATHER. 

1860. 

'Tis  fully  known  to  ONE,  by  us  yet  dimly 
seen, 

The  blessing  thou  HAST  BEEN  ; 
Yet   speaks    the    silent  love    of  many   a 
mourning  heart 

The  blessing  that  thou  ART  ; 
While   traced  on  coming  years,   in    faith 
and  hope  we  see, 

'  A  blessing  thou  SHALT  BE  ; ' 
Then  here  in  holy  labor,  there  in  holier 
rest, 

BLESSING,  thou  SHALT  BE  BLESSED. 


A  LULL  IN  LIFE. 

'And  He  said  unto  them,  Come  ye  yourselves 
apart  into  a  desert  place  and  rest  awhile  :  for 
there  were  many  coming  and  going,  and  they 
had  no  leisure  so  much  as  to  eat.' — MARK  vi.  31. 

OH   for   a    '  desert  place '   with  only  the 

Master's  smile  ! 
Oh  for  the  '  coming  apart '  with  only  His 

'  rest  awhile  !' 
Many  are  '  coming  and  going '  with  busy 

and  restless  feet, 
And  the  soul  is  hungering  now,  with  '  no 

leisure  so  much  as  to  eat. ' 

Dear  is  my  wealth  of  love  from  many  and 

valued  friends, 
Best  of  the  earthly  gifts  that  a  bounteous 

Father  sends ; 


Pleasant  the  counsel  sweet,  and  the  inter- 
change of  thought, 

Welcome  the  twilight  hour  with  musical 
brightness  fraught. 

Dear  is  the  work  He  gives  in  many  a  varied 

way, 
Little  enough  in  itself,  yet  something  for 

every  day, — 
Something  by  pen  for  the  distant,  by  hand 

or  voice  for  the  near, 
Whether  to  soothe  or  to  teach,  whether  to 

aid  or  cheer. 

Not  that  I  lightly  prize  the  treasure   of 

valued  friends, 
Not  that  I  turn  aside  from  the  work  the 

Master  sends, 
Yet  I  have  longed  for  a  pause  in  the  rush 

and  whirl  of  time, 
Longed  for  silence  to  fall  instead  of  its 

merriest  chime : 


Longed  for  a  hush  to  group  the  harmonies 

of  thought 
Round  each    melodious  strain    that   the 

harp  of  life  hath  caught, 
And    time    for  the  fitful  breeze    ^Eolian 

chords  to  bring, 
Waking  the  music  that  slept,  mute  in  the 

tensionless  string  : 

Long  for  a  calm  to  let  the  circles  die  away 
That  tremble  over  the  heart,  breaking  the 

heavenly  ray, 
And  to  leave  its  wavering  mirror  true  to 

the  Star  above, 
Brightened  and  stilled  to  its  depths  with 

the  quiet  of  '  perfect  love  : ' 


THE   MINISTRY   OF   SONG. 


Longed  for  a  sabbath  of  life,  a  time  of  re- 
newing of  youth, 

For  a  full-orbed  leisure  to  shine  on  the 
fountains  of  holy  truth  ; 

And  to  fill  my  chalice  anew  with  its  waters 
fresh  and  sweet, 

While  resting  in  silent  love  at  the  Master's 
glorious  feet. 

There  are  songs  which  only  flow  in  the 

loneliest  shades  of  night, 
There  are  flowers  which  cannot  grow  in  a 

blaze  of  tropical  light, 
There  are  crystals  which  cannot  form  till 

the  vessel  be  cooled  and  stilled  ; 
Crystal,   and  flower,  and  song,  given  as 

God  hath  willed. 

There  is  work  which  cannot  be  done  in 

the  swell  of  a  hurrying  tide, 
But  my  hand  is  not  on  the  helm  to  turn 

my  bark  aside  ; 
Yet  I  cast  a  longing  eye  on  the  hidden 

and  waveless  pool, 
Under   the  shadowing  rock,  currentless, 

clear,  and  cool. 

Well  !  I  will  wait  in  the  crowd  till  He  shal 

call  me  apart, 
Till  the  silence  fall  which  shall  waken  the 

music  of  mind  and  heart ; 
Patiently  wait  till  He  give  the  work  of  m] 

secret  choice, 
Blending  the  song  of  life  with  the  thrill  of 

the  Master's  voice. 


ADORATION. 

0  MASTER,  at  Thy  feet 

1  bow  in  rapture  sweet ! 
Before  me,  as  in  darkening  glass, 

Some  glorious  outlines  pass, 


Of  love,   and  truth,  and  holiness,   and 

power  ; 

own  them  Thine,  O  Christ,   and  bless 
Thee  for  this  hour. 

0  full  of  truth  and  grace, 
Smile  of  Jehovah's  face, 

O  tenderest  heart  of  love  untold  ! 

Who  may  Thy  praise  unfold  ? 
Thee,  Saviour,  Lord  of  lords  and  King 

of  kings, 
Well   may   adoring   seraphs   hymn    with 

veiling  wings. 

1  have  no  words  to  bring 
Worthy  of  Thee,  my  King, 

And  yet  one  anthem  in  Thy  praise 

I  long,  I  long  to  raise  ; 
The  heart   is   full,    the   eye   entranced 

above, 
But  words  all  melt  away  in  silent  awe  and 

love. 

How  can  the  lip  be  dumb, 
The  hand  all  still  and  numb, 
When  Thee   the   heart  doth  see  and 

own 

Her  Lord  and  God  alone  ? 
Tune  for  thyself  the  music  of  my  days, 
And  open  thou  my  lips  that  I  may  show 
Thy  praise. 

Yea,  let  my  whole  life  be 
One  anthem  unto  Thee, 
And  let  The  praise  of  lip  and  life 

Outring  all  sin  and  strife. 
O  Jesus,    Master !    be   Thy   name   su- 
preme 

For  heaven  and  earth  the  one,  the  grand, 
the  eternal  theme. 


TUNE    FOR    THYSELF   THE    MUSIC    OF    MY    DAYS, 

AND   OPEN   THOU   MY   LIPS   THAT    I   MAY   SHOW    THY    1'RAISE. 


Page  78. 


EARLY   POEMS. 


'  /  LEA  VE  IT  ALL    WITH  THEE. ' 

YES,  I  will  leave  it  all  with  Thee, 

And  only  ask  that  I  may  be 

Submissive  to  Thy  loving  will, 

Confiding,  waiting,  trusting  still. 

Thou  every  fond  desire  dost  know 

Which  in  my  inmost  heart  doth  glow  ; 

Thou  hearest  every  secret  sigh 

When  silent  sorrow's  power  is  nigh. 

Omniscience  alone  may  tell 

The  thoughts  which  in  my  spirit  dwelt  ; 

But  'tis  a  soothing  word  to  me, 

'  My  Father  every  thought  can  see.' 

He  knows   them   all — the   hopes  —  the 

fears — 

Confided  not  to  mortal  ears. 
He  knows  the  deep  intensity 
Of  feelings  wakened  now  in  me. 
And  if  He  knows  them,  'tis  enough  ! 
I  need  not  fear  a  stern  rebuff ; 
There's  sympathy  within  His  breast, 
On  which  my  weary  heart  can  rest 
Nor  is  there  sympathy  alone, 
Almighty  is  my  Father's  throne, 
And  He  can  grant  me  each  desire  ; 
His  gracious  hand  may  never  tire. 
He  can.     But  will  He  ?     Trust  Him  yet, 
My  faithless  soul  !     Can  I  forget 
That  He  hath  passed   His  word  of  old — 
'Not  one  good  thing  will  He  withhold 
F  rom  them,  the  children  of  My  love, 
Whose  hearts  are  set  on  things  above  ?' 
Not  one  good  thing  !     But  can  I  see 
What  may  be  good,  what  ill  for  me  ? 


Can  I  unbar  the  massy  gate 

Which  hides  from  me  the  way  I  take  ? 

But  his  eye  turneth  night  to  day, 

E'en  like  the  lightning's  piercing  ray  ; 

Then  here  is  my  security, 

That  God  my  truest  good  doth  see. 

That  joy  which  earnestly  I  crave, 

O'er  which  my  fondest  hopes  now  wave, 

Might  prove  to  me  the  shade  of  death  ! 

That    healing     breeze  —  the    Simoom's 

breath, 

If  so — it  never  will  be  mine. 
At  such  a  loss  shall  I  repine  ? 
No  !  let  me  rather  praise  the  Hand 
Which  looseneth  the  dangerous  band. 
But  if  it  be  a  heaven-born  plant, 
For  whose  sweet  flowers  my  soul  doth  pant 
If  heavenly  gladness  it  shall  bring, 
And  raise  my  soul  on  angel  wing, 
Till  nearer  Thee  each  day  I  live, — 
Oh,  then  that  blessing  Thou  wilt  give. 
The  joy  scarce  hoped  for  shall  be  mine, 
A  deeply  grateful  heart  be  Thine  ! 
Then  I  will  leave  it  all  with  Thee  ! 
My  Father,  grant  that  I  may  be 
Submissive  to  Thine  own  good  will, 
Confiding,  waiting,  loving  still  1 


MATTHEW  XIV.  23. 

IT  is  the  quiet  evening  time,  the  sun  is  in 

the  west, 
And  earth  enrobed  in  purple  glow  awaits 

her  nightly  rest  ; 

79 


So 


EARLY   POEMS. 


The  shadows  of  the  mountain  peaks  are 
lengthening  o'er  the  sea, 

And  the  flowerets  close  their  eyelids  on  the 
shore  of  Galilee. 

The  multitude  are  gone  away,  their  rest- 
less hum  doth  cease, 

The  birds  have  hushed  their  music,  and 
all  is  calm  and  peace  ; 

But  on  the  lowly  mountain  side  is  One, 
whose  beauteous  brow 

The  impress  bears  of  sorrow  and  of  weari- 
ness e'en  now. 

The  livelong   day  in  deeds  of  love  and 
power  He  hath  spent, 

And  with  them  words   of  grace  and  life 
hath  ever  sweetly  blent. 

Now  He  hath  gained  the  mountain  top, 
He  standeth  all  alone, 

No  mortal  may  be  near  Him  in  that  hour 
of  prayer  unknown. 

He  prayeth. — But  for  whom  ?     For  Him- 
self He  needeth  nought  ; 

Nor   strength,    nor   peace,    nor   pardon, 
where  of  sin  there  is  no  spot  ; 

But   'tis   for   us   in    powerful  prayer  He 
spendeth  all  the  night, 

That  His  own  loved  ones  may  be  kept 
and  strengthened  in  the  fight  ; 

That  they  may  all  be  sanctified,  and  per- 
fect made  in  one  ; 

That  they  His  glory  may  behold  where 
they  shall  need  no  sun  ; 

That  in  eternal  gladness  they  may  be  His 
glorious  bride : 

It  is  for  this  that  He  hath   climbed  the 
lonely  mountain  side. 

It  is  for  this   that  He  denies  His  weary 
head  the  rest 

Which  e'en  the  foxes  in  their  holes,  and 
birds  have  in  their  nest. 

The  echo  of  that  prayer  hath  died  upon 
the  rocky  hill, 


But  on  a  higher,  holier  mount  that  Voice 

is  pleading  still  ; 
For   while   one  weary  child    of  His  yet 

wanders  here  below, 
While  yet  one  thirsting  soul  desires  His 

peace  and  love  to  know, 
And  while  one  fainting  spirit  seeks  His 

holiness  to  share, 
The  Saviour's  loving  heart  shall  pour   a 

tide  of  mighty  prayer  ; 
Yes  !  till  each  ransomed  one  hath  gained 

His  home  of  joy  and  peace, 
That  Fount  of  Blessings  all  untold  shall 

never,  never  cease. 


MATTHEW  XXVI.  jo. 

'  And  when   they   had  sung  an  hymn,  they 
went  out.' 

THE  sun  hath  gilded  Judah's  hills 

With  his  last  gorgeous  beam  ; 
Ghost-like  the  still  grey  mists  arise 

From  Jordan's  sacred  stream. 
The  stars,  bright  flowers  of  the  sky, 

Unfold  their  beauties  now, 
And  gaze  on  Salem's  marble  fane, 

By  Olivet's  dark  brow. 
In  David's  city  sound  is  hushed 

And  tread  of  busy  feet, 
For  solemnly  his  sons  have  met 

The  paschal  lamb  to  eat. 
But  list !  the  silence  of  the  hour 

Is  broken  ;  the  still  air 
A  melody  hath  caught  which  far 

Its  viewless  pinions  bear. 
Unwonted  sweetness  hath  the  strain, 

And  as  its  numbers  flow, 
More  tender  and  more  touching  yet 

Its  harmony  doth  grow. 
Not  royal  David's  tuneful  harp 

Such  thrilling  power  had  known 


LEAVING  US  AN  EXAMPLE,  THAT  YE  SHOULD  FOLLOW  HIS  STEPS.'     Si 


To  wake  deep  echoes  in  the  soul, 

As  its  scarce  earthly  tone. 
Within  an  '  upper  room  '  are  met 

A  small,  yet  faithful  band, 
On  whom  a  deep  yet  chastened  grief 

Hath  laid  its  softening  hand. 
Among  them  there  is  One  who  wears 

A  more  than  mortal  mein, 
'Tis  He  on  whom  in  all  distress 

The  weary  one  may  lean. 
Mysterious  sadness,  on  that  brow 

So  pure  and  calm,  doth  lie  ; 
And  untold  stores  of  deepest  love 

Are  beaming  from  His  eye. 
What  wonder  if  the  strain  was  sweet 

Above  all  other  lays  ? 
Seraphic  well  might  seem  the  hymn 

Which  Jesu's  voice  did  raise. 
The  angels  hush  their  lyres,  and  bend 

To  hear  the  thrilling  tone, 
And  heaven  is  silent,  — with  that  song 

They  mingle  not  their  own. 
The  sorrowing  ones  around  have  heard 

Their  blessed  Master  tell, 
That  He  with  them  no  longer  now 

As  heretofore  may  dwell. 
And  they  have  sadly  shared  with  Him 

The  last,  last  evening  meal, 
And  heard  the  last  sweet  comfort  which 

Their  mourning  hearts  may  heal. 
They  do  not  know  the  fearful  storm 

Which  on  His  head  must  burst  ; 
They  know  not  all — He  hath  not  told 

His  loving  ones  the  worst. 
How  could  He  ?     E'en  an  angel's  mind 

Could  never  comprehend 
The  weight  of  woe,  'neath  which  for  us 

The  Saviour's  head  must  bend  ; 
Ere  long  the  voice,  which  waketh  now 

Such  touching  melody, 
ill  cry:  '  My  God,  My  God,  oh  why 

Hast  Thou  forsaken  Me?' 


The  hour  is  come  ;   but  ere  they  meet 

Its  terrors, — yet  once  more 
Their  voices  blend  with  His  who  sang 

As  none  e'er  sang  before. 
Why  do  they  linger  on  that  note  ? 

Why  thus  the  sound  prolong? 
Ah  !  'twas  the  last !     'Tis  ended  now, 

That  strangely  solemn  song. 
And  forth  they  go  : — the  song  is  past ; 

But,  like  the  rose-leaf,  still, 
Whose  fragrance  doth  not  die  away, 

Its  soft  low  echoes  thrill 
Through  many  a  soul,  and  there  awake 

New  strains  of  glowing  praise 
To  Him  who,  on  that  fateful  eve, 

That  last  sweet  hymn  did  raise. 


'LEAVING  US  AN  EXAMPLE, 
THAT  YE  SHOULD  FOLLOW 
HIS  STEPS: 

O  JESU,  Thou  didst  leave    Thy  glorious 

home, 
Of  brightness  more  than  mortal  eye  could 

bear, 

And  joys  ineffable,  alone  to  roam 
Through  earth's  dark  wilderness  in  grief 

and  want  and  care. 
Thou  didst  exchange  the  praise  of  seraph 

voices 

For  sin-made  discords  and  the  wail  of  pain, 
The  anthems  swelling  high  where  each  in 

Thee  rejoices 
For  fierce   revilings  in  the    world  where 

unbelief  doth  reign. 
Yes,  Thou  didst  leave  Thy  bliss-encircled 

dwelling, 

Of  joy  and  holiness  and  perfect  love, 
And  earnest  to  this  world  of  sorrow,  telling 
Each  weary  one  the  way  to  realms  of  rest 

above. 


82 


EARLY   POEMS. 


Mark  we  Thy  walk  along  the  holy  way, — 
Each  step  is  graven,  that  all  the  path  may 

trace 
Which  leads  where  Thou  art  gone, — and 

never  may 
The  powers  of  darkness  one  bright  step 

erase  ! 
And  Thou  hast  left  a  solemn  word  behind 

Thee, 
Solemn,  yet  fraught  with  blessing  ; — would 

we  learn 
How  we  may  gain  Thy  dwelling  and  there 

find  Thee? 
Thou  sayest,  'Follow  Me/     Be  this  our 

great  concern. 
And  oh,  how  blessed  thus  to  mark  each 

hour 

The  footsteps  of  our  Saviour,  and  to  know 
That  in  them  we  are  treading,  — then  each 

flower 
Of  hope  seems  fairer,  and  each  joy  doth 

yet  more  brightly  glow. 
Oh  that  I  always  followed  Him  alone  ! 
I  know  that  I  am  His,  for  I  have  bowed 
In    peaceful    faith    before    my   Saviour's 

throne, 
And  gladly  there  to  Him  my  life,  my  all 

have  vowed. 
And  He  hath  pardoned  me,  and  washed 

away 
Each  stain  of  guilt,  and  bade  me  quickly 

rise 

And  follow  Him  each  moment  of  each  day; 
And  He  hath  set  a  crown  of  life  and  joy 

before  mine  eyes. 
How  can  I  turn  aside  and  wound  the  love 
That  gave  Himself  to  bleed  and  die  for  me  ! 
How  can  I  stray,  and  grieve  the  holy  Dove 
Who  lights  my  soul,  opening  mine -eyes  to 

see! 

O  Saviour,    fix  my  wayward,  wandering 
heart 


Upon  Thyself,  that  I  may  closely  cling 
To  Thy  blest  side,  and  never  more  depart 
From  Thee,  my  loved    Redeemer,   Thee 

my  heart's  own  King. 
And  grant  me  daily  grace  to  follow    Thee 
Through  joy    and    pleasure   or    through 

grief  and  sadness, 
Until  an  entrance  is  vouchsafed  to  me 
In  Thy  bright  home  of  holiness  and  glad- 
ness. 


OUR    ENGLISH   SABBATHS. 

O  ENGLAND,  thou  art  beautiful,  and  very 

dear  to  me, 
And  the  spirit  of  thy  noble  sons  is  high 

and  pure  and  free  ; 
Full  many  a  jewel  sparkles  clear  in  the 

crown  upon  thy  brow, 
But  one  is  gleaming  fairest  in  that  glorious 

garland  now. 

It  gleameth  with  a  holy  light,    too  pure 

for  sinful  earth, 
In  the  twilight  of  this  shadow-land  it  hath 

not  had  its  birth  ; 
'Tis   polished   by   no   mortal   hand,     its 

radiance  is  its  own, 
And  it  mingleth  with   the  glory  of  the 

Father's  dazzling  throne. 

Oh,  gaze  upon  its  beauty,  reflecting  yet 

the  light 
Of  Eden's  spotless,   shadeless   hours,    in 

this  our  sin-made  night ; 
Oh,  gaze  again,   and  thou  shalt  see,  in 

that  all-beauteous  ray, 
A  gleam   of  that   celestial   morn   which 

ne'er  may  fade  away ! 


COLOSSIANS  III.    2. 


It  is  a  gem  of  untold  worth,  it  is  a  golden 

mine, 
The  pledge  of  an  inheritance, — a  gift  of 

love  Divine  ; 
A  monarch  may  not  buy  it, — oh,    then 

let  it  not  be  sold  ! 
Oh,   England,    dear   old   England,    this, 

thy  priceless  treasure,  hold  ! 

Thy  Sabbath  is  this  treasure,   a  fount  of 

ceaseless  blessing, 
And   thou    art   rich  and    powerful,    this 

glorious  gift  possessing  ; 
Oh,  heed  not  those   who   craftily  would 

bid  thee  cast  away 
The  diamond  hours  of  Sabbath  rest,  no 

pleasure  can  repay. 

There  is  a  cloud  o'er  other  lands,  though 
fair  their  mountains  be, 

And  beautiful  their  sunny  plains,  re- 
echoing with  glee  ; 

But  on  our  Sabbath-loving  heart  it  casts  a 
saddening  gloom, 

While  the  mirth  of  all  their  songs  is  as 
the  music  of  the  tomb. 

They  know  no  holy  Sabbath   rest ;  and 

yet,  above,  around, 
The  trees  are  waving  solemnly  with  a  deep 

and  holy  sound ; 
And  the  flowers  smile  to  greet  His  day, 

and  the  streams  more  softly  roll, 
And  all  things  speak  of  God  to  the  silent 

listening  soul. 

They  heed  it  not  1  with  song  and  glee 
the  hallowed  hours  are  passed  ; 

The  blessings  which  the  Sabbath  brings, 
aside  are  lightly  cast ; 


And  'neath  the  sparkling  wavelets  of  un- 

sanctified  delight 
Is  a  dark,  deep  stream  of  weary  toil  from 

morn  to  welcome  night 

There  are  some  who  listen  eagerly  while 

told  of  Sabbath  rest, 
As   a   thirsting   desert  pilgrim   hears  of 

Araby  the  blest ; 
'Mid  their  changeless  seven  days'  labor, 

they  drop  a  hopeless  tear, 
'  Oh,  would  to  God  that  we  might  have 

an  English  Sabbath  here  !' 

Sad   is   their    lot !    but   there  are  those 

within  our  own  dear  land 
Who  would  forge  for  us  such  fetters,  and 

burst  our  golden  band, 
Who   sin   in  deeper  bondage  yet,  while 

striving  to  be  free, 
And  know  not  that  our  Father's  law  is 

truest  Liberty ! 


COLOSSIANS  III.    2. 

WHY  do  we  cling  to  earth  ?     Its  sweetest 

pleasures 
Are   transient  as   the  snowflake    of   the 

spring  ; 

Like  early  mist  its  most  abiding  treasures, 
Or  foam  of  ocean  wave.     To  earth  why 

do  we  cling  ? 

Why  do  we  cling  to  earth  ?  Is  it  the 
fleeting  brightness 

Of  her  gay  robes  ?  fair  fields,  green  forest 
trees, 

Grand  mountains,  lovely  dells,  or  gleam- 
ing whiteness 

Of  silent  snow  ?  To  heavenly  beauties 
what  are  these  ? 


84 


EARLY   POEMS. 


Lovely,    most  lovely  are  earth's   radiant 

flowers, 

Her  very  smiles  of  joy,  aye  chasing  gloom  ; 
But   soon  they   wither   in   her    happiest 

bowers  : 
In  heaven  doth  the  Rose  of  Sharon  ever 

bloom  1 

And     beautiful     the    gleaming     wavelet 

dancing, 

And  wild  cascade,  rejoicing  to  be  free, 
And   pure,    cool   fountains   through   the 

green  shades  glancing : 
In  heaven  the  living  streams    well   forth 

eternally ! 

Most  glorious  is  the  glowing  sun  on  high, 
The  moon's  soft  brilliance  crowning  the 

still  night, 

The  million  starry  diamonds  of  the  sky  : 
In  heaven  is  God  Himself  the  source  of 

perfect  light ! 

Sweet  is  earth's  music !  whether  o'er  us 

stealeth 
The  lyre's  calm  melody,    or  blackbird's 

untaught  lay, 
Or  harmony  through  shadowy  aisles  full 

pealeth  : 
In  heaven  new    songs  of  rapture  angel 

harps  essay  1 

What  though  the  eastern  monarch's  robes 

are  gleaming 
With  gold  and  orient  gems,  each  gorgeous 

hue 
With   more  than  rainbow  brightness  in 

them  beaming  ; 
The  robes  of  heaven  are  woven  light,  and 

ever  new. 


All  these  are  beautiful ;  and  we  may  love 

them 
As  His   good   gifts  ;  but   oh  !  they   pass 

away  : 
Then  cling  not  to  them  ;  seek,   far,    far 

above  them 
The  joys   ineffable,  which  fade  not,   nor 

decay. 

But  cling  we   to  earth's  honors  ?     What 

delusion  ! 

Immortal  souls  they  ne'er  may  satisfy  ; 
How  mean,  how  small  e'en  tenfold  their 

profusion 
Beside  heaven's  glorious  crown  and  palm 

of  victory. 

Hath  love  of  knowledge  cast  her  fetters 

o'er  us  ? 
Here  we  know  nothing  !     But  in  heaven's 

bright  day 

The  lore  of  ages  will  be  spread  before  us,— 
Yes,    of  eternity !  illumed   with     truth's 

pure  ray. 

Have  we  dear  friends  our  fond  affections 

chaining 
To  scenes  of  earth  ?    But  they  may  change, 

must  die. 

In  heaven  the  purest  love  is  ever  reigning, 
Far  more  abiding  than  the  pillars  of  the 

sky. 

Do  we   seek   happiness?       No    mirage 

fleeteth 

More  quickly  than  all  happiness  below,— 
But  oh  !  no   heart   may   dream   the   joy 

which  meeteth 
The  soul  which  wakes  in  heaven,  its  bliss 

here  none  can  know. 


CLOUDS  IN   PROSPECT. 


Is  holiness  our  heart's  intense  desire  ? 
Then  every  glance  from  earth  must  turn 

away. 
In  heaven  all  sinless  is  each  voice,  each 

lyre; 
Heaven's  holiness  is  perfect,  endless  as  its 

day. 

Yes,  beauty,  light,  and  music  are  above ; 
There  honor,  wisdom,  knowledge,  all  are 

given  ; 
There  is  the  home  of  friendship  and  of 

love, 
And  happiness  and  holiness,  twin  flowers 

of  heaven. 

But  more,  far  more  than  all  !     'Tis  God's 

own  dwelling ; 
Thrice  blessed  thought !  ever  with  Him  to 

be! 

Eternity  would  be  too  short  for  telling 
The  bliss  of  even  one  unveiled  glimpse  of 

Thee. 

To  see,  and  know,  and  love,  and  praise 

for  ever 
The  Saviour  who  hath  died  that  we  might 

live, 
Where  sorrow,  pain,  and  death  may  enter 

never ! 
And  ever  learn  new  cause  new  songs  of 

praise  to  give  ! 

Oh,  what  a  prospect !  How,  how  can  we 
cling 

To  earth's  dark  dream,  when  such  a  hope 
is  given  ? 

Oh  may  we  from  this  hour,  on  faith- 
plumed  wing, 

No  longer  cling  to  earth,  but  soar  to  yon 
bright  heaven  ! 


CLOUDS  IN  PROSPECT. 

OH  pleasant  have  the  hours  of  my  early 

childhood  been, 
When  all  around  me  seemed  enrobed  in 

brightly  glittering  sheen  ; 
When  a  thousand  rainbow  tints  were  in 

every  simple  flower, 
And  a  thousand  new  delights  came  with 

every  sunny  hour ; 
When  I  thought  the  merry  birds  trilled 

their  carols  all  for  me, 
And  with  heart  and  voice  I  joined  in  their 

joyous  melody  ; 
When  all  heedless  of  the  darkening  storm, 

I  loved  the  purple  cloud, 
And  listened  with  delight  to  the  thunder 

pealing  loud. 
In  those  happy  days  of  childhood,   I  did 

not  think  or  see 
That  many  trials  might  be  waiting  even 

then  for  me  ; 
But  now,  though  yet  1  meet  them  not,  I 

know  that  they  must  stand 
In  many  a  varied  shape  and  form,  unseen 

on  every  hand. 
As  yet  from  heavy  troubles,  thank  God,  I 

have  been  free  ; 
Oh,  surely  there  are  few  who  have  what  is 

vouchsafed  to  me  ! 
But  one  eclipse  hath  shadowed  o'er  my 

childhood's  sunny  hours, 
And  now  its  sharpness  seemeth  past,  that 

thorn  'mid  many  flowers. 
But   still    the  saddening  feeling    cometh 

oftener  than  before, 
That  many  a  future  sorrow  e'en  for  me 

may  be  in  store ; 
For  all  around  me  seem  to  have  some 

wearying  care  or  grief, 
From  which  they  scarcely  dare  to  hope  on 

earth  to  find  relief. 


86 


EARLY   POEMS. 


And  my  memory  loves  to  dwell  upon  the 

merry  careless  hours, 
When  I  thought  the  world    a    thornless 

garden  full  of  lovely  flowers. 


EARTH'S  SHADOW. 

I  HAVE  but  passed  the  first  short  stage 
Of  life,  and  yet  I'm  growing  weary  ; 
For  every  step  towards  riper  age 
The  way  becomes  more  dreary. 

I  look  behind  ; — few  years  ago 
The  world  seemed  full  of  fairy  flowers, — 
I  loved  them  ;  for  I  did  not  know 
How  sin  pervades  Earth's  loveliest  bowers. 

Like  Italy's  fair  sunny  vales 
With  unknown  deathly  vapors  teeming — 
Or  like  Sahara's  sand-charged  gales 
Beneath  a  sun  unclouded  beaming, — 

Such  is  our  Earth.     Roam  where  you  will, 
Seems  loveliness  the  eye  entrancing  ; 
The  silent  glen,  the  breezy  hill, 
The  sun-tipped  wavelet  blithely  dancing. 

But  gaze  again.     Each  zephyr's  breath 
Uplifts  a  veil,  dark  truths  revealing ; 
For  all  is  stained  with  sin,  and  death 
The  fairest  buds  is  grimly  sealing. 

That  sense  of  sin  !     It  casts  a  cloud 
O'er  all  Earth's  scenes  of  glee  and  pleas- 
ure : 

Is  nought  then  pure  amid  her  crowd 
Of  joys?  nought  spotless  of  her  treasure? 

Nought,  nought !  cries  Echo.   How  I  love 
The  spirit  which  to  me  is  given  ! 
My  priceless  gem,  my  cherished  dove, 
My  sweetest,  dearest  gift  of  heaven. 


How  oft  I've  sought  for  solace  in 
My  own  loved  soul  in  hours  of  sadness  ; 
Oh,  how  I  love  it !     It  has  been 
My  more  than  friend,  my  fount  of  glad- 
ness. 

But  oh,  'tis  sinful !     Even  here 
My  simple  joy  and  love  are  ending ; 
How  can  the  mind  to  me  be  dear 
Where  sin  with  every  thought  is  blending  ? 

If  e'en  my  Eden  is  not  pure, 
How  can  my  heart's  love  rest  below  ? 
Say,  will  the  passage-bird  endure 
To  tarry  'mid  the  northern  snow  ? 

It  cannot  rest !     Like  early  dew 
A  pure  warm  Sun  hath  called  it  higher 
Where  sin  is  not ;  where,  holy  too, 
E'en  /  may  tune  a  sinless  lyre. 


ASPIRATIONS. 

OH  to  be  nearer  Thee,  my  Saviour, 
Oh  to  be  filled  with  Thy  sweet  grace, 

Oh  to  abide  in  Thine  own  favor, 
Oh  to  behold  Thy  glorious  face. 

Oh  to  be  ever  upward  gazing, 

Glad  with  the  sunshine  of  Thy  love; 
Oh  to  be  ever,  ever  praising, 

Echoing  here  the  songs  above. 

Oh  to  be  never,  never  weary 
E'en  in  the  dark  affray  of  sin ; 

Oh  to  press  on  through  conflicts  dreary 
One  of  Thine  own  dear  smiles  to  win. 

Oh  to  desire  to  spread  Thy  glory, 

Seeking  it  as  my  only  aim  ; 
Oh  to  be  taught  Thy  strange  sweet  story 

Worthily,  fully  to  proclaim. 


THE   SPIRIT'S   LONGINGS. 


Oh  to  go  onward,  self  forgetting, 
Willing  to  take  the  lowest  place  ; 

Oh  to  go  upward,  never  letting 
Pride  of  the  heart  my  glance  abase. 

Oh  to  become  each  day  more  lowly, 
More  of  Thine  own  blest  image  gain  ; 

Oh  to  be  made,  as  Thou  art,  holy, 
Oh  to  be  freed  from  sin's  dread  chain. 

Oh  to  be  listening  every  hour 

The  more  than  music  of  Thy  voice  ; 

Feeling  its  soothing  quickening  power, 
Bidding  the  silenced  heart  rejoice  ! 


SUNSET. 

(IMPROMPTU  DURING   A  WALK  WITH 
E.  CLAY.  ) 

How  pleasant  'tis  at  eventide 
To  walk  with  friends  we  love  : 

And  think  and  speak  of  Him  who  died, 
And  who  now  reigns  above. 

Is  there  a  subject  half  so  sweet, 

On  which  our  thoughts  could  dwell  ? 

No,  'tis  a  theme  for  angels  meet, 
Though  we  of  it  may  tell. 

The  beauties  that  around  we  see, 

On  this  calm  lovely  eve, 
Show  forth  His  love  to  you  and  me, 

If  we  this  love  believe. 

The  sunset  paints  the  western  sky 

With  colors  fair  and  bright  ; 
But  we  will  raise  our  wondering  eye 

To  scenes  of  heavenly  light. 

The   clouds    that   round   their  monarch 

stay 
A  light  and  radiance  gain  ; 


While  those  which  tarry  far  away 
Such  brightness  ne'er  attain. 

So  those  who,  in  this  wilderness, 

Still  near  their  Master  stay, 
The  beauty  gain  of  holiness, 

Of  heaven's  own  light  a  ray. 

Now,  soon  the  darkening  shades  of  night 
Will  o'er  these  scenes  be  thrown, 

The  sun's  last  ray  of  golden  light 
Wiil  far  away  be  flown. 

Then  hasten  to  our  heavenly  home, 
That  land  more  fair,  more  bright  ; 

Where  shades  of  darkness  never  come, 
Where  there  is  no  more  night 


THE  SPIRIT'S  LONGINGS. 

WHEN  the  loveliest  flowers  are  waking, 

Whispering  thoughts  of  silent  joy, 
And  the  lark,  his  nest  forsaking, 

Carols  in  the  beaming  sky ; 
When  her  mantle  Beauty  flings 
Over  Nature's  gladsome  things  : 
Yet  the 'soul  it  doth  not  fill, 
Something  seeks  it  fairer  still. 

When  the  crystal  streams  are  glancing 

From  the  Fount  of  Poesy, 
Mingling  with  the  all-entrancing 

Sweetness  of  calm  melody : 
When  the  spirit,  thirsting  long, 
Feels  the  wondrous  power  of  song, 
Yet  it  yearns  for  something  more, 
Something  which  may  be  in  store. 

When  the  heart  is  warmly  glowing 
Toward  the  dearest  ones  around, 

And  with  joyous  love  overflowing, 
Fancies  happiness  is  found, 


88 


EARLY   POEMS. 


Softly  hushing  noisy  mirth, 
Finds  the  purest  joy  of  earth  ; 
Even  then  it  must  aspire, 
Ever  seeking  something  higher. 

When  the  weary  spirit  turneth 

From  the  dark  low  earth  away, 
And  with  contrite  sorrow  mourneth 

Till  the  shadows  flee  away  ; 
When  the  soul  on  Jesus'  breast 
Sinks  in  lowly  peaceful  rest, — 
Then  its  yearnings  all  are  stilled, 
And  with  perfect  bliss  'tis  filled. 


THE    OLD    AND    THE   NEW 
EARTH. 

WHEN  the  first  bright  dawn  of  a  Sabbath- 
day 

O'er  the  purple  hills  of  the  far  east 
gleamed ; 

When  in  pristine  loveliness  Eden  lay, 

And  the  fairest  spot  of  the  fair  earth 
seemed ; 

When  the  first  sweet  lay  of  the  nightingale 

Rang  in  liquid  music  o'er  every  hill, 

And  the  verdant  waste  of  the  new-formed 
vale 

Heard  the  first  wild  song  of  the  sparkling 
rill  ; 

When  in  first  fresh  beauty  the  young  flow- 
ers stood, 

And  their  leafy  banners  the  trees  unfurled  ; 

When  the  Maker  of  all  called  it  'very 
good,'— 

I  would  I  had  seen  our  beautiful  world. 

When  the  dwelling  bright  of  the  Shining 

Ones, 

The  abode  of  Him  who  is  Love  and  Light, 
Heard  the  joyous  song  of  God's  holy  sons, 


As  the  new-born  world  met  their  ravished 
sight  ; 

When  the  morning  stars  caught  the  ca- 
dence sweet, 

And  took  up  the  strain  of  the  heavenly 
song, 

And  each  bright  one  joined  from  his  glo- 
rious seat 

In  the  chorus  swelling  so  loud  and  long  ; 

Praising  Him  who  made  by  His  mighty 
Word 

The  new  earth  in  beauty  and  purity  ; — 

I  would  that  the  echo  I  might  have  heard 

Of  their  thrilling  celestial  melody. 

When  in  Eden's  lovely  and  thornless  bow- 
ers, 
All  unstained  by  sin,    our  first    parents 

dwelt ; 
When  on  wings  of  joy  flew  their  sunny 

hours, 

And  the  touch  of  sorrow  they  had  not  felt  ; 
When  their  sole  companions  were  seraphs 

bright, 

And  their  sweetest  music  the  angels'  lays  ; 
When  a  gleam  of  heaven's  own   glorious 

light 

Might  often  meet  their  enraptured  gaze  ; 
When  while  dwelling  here  Love  was  still 

their  guide, 
And  the  dread  angel,  Death,  did  not  wait 
To   unlock    for    them    heaven's    portals 

wide ; 
I  would  I  had  shared  in  their  blissful  state. 

But  the  time  will  come,  when,  all  purified 
From  its  ev'ry  spot  by  a  fiery  flood, 
Our  earth  shall  hear,  as  recedes  the  tide, 
Once  again  the  words,   '  It  is  very  good. ' 
When  the  song  of  the  stars  shall  be  'heard 
again 


THOUGHTS   AWAKENED   BY  ASTLEY  BELLS. 


89 


O'er  their  sister  joying,  the  holy  earth  ; 
When  the  purest  love  shall  for  ever  reign, 
And  immortal  joys  have  their  blissful  birth; 
There  shall  be  no  sorrow  and  no  more  sin, 
Pain  shall  pass  away,  Death  himself  shall 

die, 

To  that  fairer  Eden  may  we  go  in, 
And  entering,  dwell  there  eternally. 


THOUGHTS  A  WAKENED  BY  AST- 
LEY  BELLS. 

SWEET  Astley  bells  !  your  distant  chime, 

So  tuneful,  yet  so  sad, 
Recalls  my  childhood's  earliest  time  : 

I  sigh,  and  yet  am  glad. 

My   thoughts   return,  on   swift  unsteady 

wings, 

Along  the  trodden  path  whose  misty  light 
Revealed  dim  visions  of  unspoken  things, 

Passing,  yet  bright. 
Oh,  years  have  glided  by  so  fast, 
That  twenty-one  have  almost  past, 
And  now  those  softened  bells, 
With  wondrous  spells, 
Have  called  the  solemn  train   of  by-gone 

times 

Back  from  Eternity's   mysterious   chimes. 
They  come,  a  fearful  crowd, 
And  gaze  with  spectral  eyes  ; 
Before  this  witness  cloud 

My  spirit  silent  lies  : 
No  sound  is  there,  yet  strange  wild  echoes 

thrill 

The  inmost  caverns  of  my  soul,  where  all 
seemed  waste  and  still. 

Scenes  arise  before  me 

Fairer  than  the  light, 
Visions  hover  o'er  me 

Darker  than  the  night ; 


While  my  spirit  haileth 

Those  wilh  fond  delight, 
Yet  at  these  it  quaileth, 
Shrouded  in  affright. 
For  the  past  years  press  me  closer  round, 

And  I  cannot  bear  their  gaze; 
With  a  brazen  fetter  I  am  bound, 
While  their  deep  reproachful  voices  sound 

And  their  piercing  eyebeams  blaze. 
They  speak   of  thoughtless  words    and 

wasted  hours, 

Of  hopes  forgotten,  resolutions  broken  ; 
Their   breath    recalls   once   bright,    now 

faded  flowers, 
Their    tones   bring  back     the    words 

which  sainted  lips  have  spoken. 
Again  is  heard  that  spirit-wakening  bell ; 
Each  stroke  is  branding  deep  my  heavy 

heart, 
Like  some  inevitable  knell, 

Saying,  '  Thou  too  must  soon  depart/ 
And  'tis  a  knell !  My  youth  is  past, 

That  very  chime  hath  told  me  so  ! 
This  year  hath  been  the  last,  the  last ; 

My  spring  is  gone,  I  know  ! 
The  sound  hath  melted  o'er  the  hill, 

And  all  is  still ! 
Again  the  peal  is  ringing, 
Like  angel  voices  singing, — 
'  May  there  not  be 
A  summer  yet  for  thee  ? 
Without  the  chilling  frosts  of  spring, 

Without  the  piercing  wind, 
Without  the  yet  unclothed  spray, 

These  thou  hast  left  behind  ! 
What  though  the  rainbow  fade  away  ? 

The  light  which  gave  it  birth 
Is  still  the  same  ;  and  e'en  the  cloud 

May  bless  the  thirsty  earth. 
What  though  the  blossom  fall  and  die? 
The  flower  is  not  the  root  : 


EARLY  POEMS. 


A  summer's  sun  may  ripen  yet 

The  Master's  pleasant  fruit. 
What  though  by  many  a  sinful  fall 

Thy  garments  be  denied  ? 
A  Saviour's  blood  can  cleanse  them  all ; 

Fear  not,  thou  art  His  child  ! 
Arise  !  to  follow  in  His  track, 

His  lowly  ones  to  cheer  ; 
And  on  an  upward  path,  look  back 

With  every  brightening  year. 
Arise  !  and  on  thy  future  way 

His  blessing  with  thee  be, 
His  presence  be  thy  staff  and  stay 

Till  thou  His  glory  see. 
What    though    thy    heart    distrust    thy 
strength  ? 

The  way  may  not  be  long, 
And  He  will  bring  thee  home  at  length 

To  learn  His  own  new  song. ' 

Sweet  Astley  bells  !  your  distant  chime, 

So  tuneful,  though  so  sad, 
Speaks  of  a  holier,  happier  time  : 

I  sigh,  and  yet  am  glad. 


<PRAY  FOR  ME: 

WHEN  the  early  morn  awaketh, 
Veiled  in  mist,  or  robed  in  fire  ; 

When  the  evening  ray  forsaketh 

Golden  cloud  and  gleaming  spire, — 

Thy  request  shall  sacred  be 

In  the  shrine  of  memory, 

And  for  thee  my  prayer  shall  rise 

Far  beyond  the  silent  skies. 

When  the  Sabbath  calm  is  sleeping 
Like  a  moonbeam  everywhere  ; 

When  the  solemn  feast-day  keeping, 
Upward  float  our  praise  and  prayer ; 


When  in  holy  love  and  fear 
To  our  Father  we  draw  near,- 
Many  a  winged  hope  for  thee 
To  His  ear  shall  wafted  be. 

When  we  hear  the  loud  though t-chcrus, 
While  the  Old  Year's  knell  is  tolled  ; 
When  the  Future  looms  before  us, 

And  the  Past  seems  all  unrolled  ; 
When  each  moment  fleeteth  by, 
Like  a  deep  mysterious  sigh, — 
Then,  oh  then,  my  heart  shall  be 
Lifted  earnestly  for  thee  : 

Lifted — that  our  God  may  lead  thee 
All  the  way  that  thou  shouldst  go, 

With  His  daily  manna  feed  thee, 
Ever}'-  needful  good  bestow  ; 

That  the  dearest  ones  to  thee 

Near  and  dear  to  Him  may  be  ; 

That  His  smile  on  thee  may  rest, 

In  His  presence  calmly  blest : 

Lifted — that  our  holy  Saviour 

More  and  more  to  thee  may  show 

All  the  wondrous  grace  and  favor 
He  hath  suffered  to  bestow  : 

That  His  love  may  be  thy  shield 

In  Temptation's  battle-field  ; 

And  His  sympathy  thy  light 

In  Affliction's  darkest  night : 

That  the  Comforter,  descending 

In  His  sanctifying  power, 
Peace  and  hope  and  gladness  blending, 

On  thy  waiting  soul  may  shower  ; 
That  our  Triune  God  may  shed 
Every  blessing  on  thy  head, 
Till  thou  enter  in  and  see 
All  He  hath  prepared  for  thee. 


ON   THE   DEATH    OF   CAPTAIN   ALLAN   GARDINER. 


ON    THE   DEATH  OF  CAPTAIN 
ALLAN  GARDINER,     . 

THE    FIRST     MISSIONARY    TO     PATAGONIA. 

IN  desolate  wild  grandeur  all  around, 
Dark  rocky  spires  are  tow'ring  to  th 

sky, 
While  through  the  caverns  echoes  far 

the  sound 

Of  winds,  which  o'er  Antarctic  seas  sweep 
fitfully. 

The  ocean  waves  with  deep  and  hollow 

tone 
Combat   the  haughty  cliffs  in  fierce 

affray, 
Then    back   returning  with   a   sullen 

moan, 

Sink,  till  again  they  dash,  their  warrior 
spray. 

No  flowerets  spring  that  barren  land  to 

cheer, 
No  waving  trees  salute  that  stormy 

sky 
With  graceful  bend  :  scarce  grass  and 

herbs  appear, 

Or  aught   of  greenery,    to    soothe    the 
wearied  eye. 

O  who  in  such  a  dreary  clime  could 

dwell  ? 
Who  would  abide  on  such  a  desert 

shore  ? 
Save  the  wild  natives,  who,  our  sailors 

tell, 

No   Saviour  know,    no    Deity  supreme 
adore. 

But   list   awhile  !     Who  breathed  that 

deep-drawn  sigh  ? 

Whence  came  it  ?     Hark  again  !     A 
voice  of  prayer, 


Mingled  with  heavenly  praises,  rose  on 

high, 

As  with  sweet  incense  hallo wmg  the  chil- 
ly air. 

Alone,    no   earthly   friend   or   brother 

near, 
A  human  form  lies  on   that  bleak, 

bleak  strand  ; 
Sunken  his   eye,  and  wan  his  cheeks 

appear, 

For  famine   pale   has   laid   on   him  her 
withering  hand. 

Nor  food  nor  water  six  long  weary  days 
Have  passed  those  pallid  lips,  yet  not 

a  plaint 
From  him  may  fall,  but  notes  of  joyful 

praise  ; 

Sustained  with  bread  of  life  his  soul  can 
never  faint : 

For  Jesus  whispers  comfort  to  his  soul, 
And  smoothes  his  pillow,  though  so 

cold  and  hard  ; 

He  hears  no  wind,  he  sees  no  surges  roll, 
He  only  hears  his  Master,  sees  his  bright 
reward. 

Another  sigh,  his  happy  soul  hath  flown 
From   its   frail   dwelling,    where   so 

long  it  lay 
Pinioned  ;  his  painful  toils  at  length  are 

done, 

A.nd  angels  welcome  him  to  dwell  in  end- 
less  day. 

Wherefore  left  he  his  lovely  native  isle  ? 
Wherefore  his  life,  his  all  thus  sacri- 
fice ? 

Did  he  for  pleasure  undertake  such  toil  ? 
/Vas   it   for  sordid  gold,   which  men  so 
highly  prize  ? 


92 


EARLY   POEMS. 


No  !  higher  motives  filled  that  noble 

breast  ; 
He  sacrified  his  all  from  Christian 

love, 
He  went  to  tell  of  peace  and  heavenly 

rest, 

To  teach  those  heathen  of  a  gracious  God 
above. 

And  shall  we  blame  him,  who  devoted 

thus 

To  his  great  Master's  name  his  fresh- 
est days  ? 

Despise  that  bright  example  left  to  us, 
And  on  his  memory  strive  to  cast  a  gloomy 
haze? 

Shame,  shame  on  those  who  dare  asper- 
sions fling 
On  Gardiner's  honored  name  !    They 

know  it's  true 
Right  well  he  served  his  Saviour  and  his 

King  ; 

And  they  who  love  the  Master,   love  the 
servant  too. 

But  now  he  rests  in  peace,   his  labors 

past  ; 
Nothing  can   vex   that  noble  spirit 

more, 
For  he  hath  gained  his  distant  port  at 

last, 

The  waves  have  only  carried  him  to  that 
blest  shore. 

No  laurels  bloom  on  that  pale  dying 

brow, 
No  earthly  honors  cluster  round  that 

bed; 

But  victor-wreaths  of  life  encircle  now, 
And  a  bright  crown  adorns  that  mission 
martyr's  head  ! 


'  THANK  GOD: 

*  FOR  nine-and-twenty  years,  the  rainbow- 

pinioned  Spring 
Hath  kissed  the  young  lips  of  her  smil- 

ing flowers  ; 
For  nine-and-twenty  years  hath  Aummn's 

golden  ring 
Encircled  the  fair  fruit  in  all  her  bowers. 

'  Yes,  nine-and-twenty  years  have  darkly, 

sadly  passed 
Since  last  the  light  of  heaven  'twas  mine 

to  see  ; 
All  aid  has  failed  !     Thy  skill  my  only 

hope,  my  last  ! 

Good  Hofrath,  can  there  yet  be  hope  for 
me?' 


Say,  hath  a  passing  angel  left  in  that  kind 

face 
The  mirrored  image  of  his  own  sweet 

smile, 
To  the  great  good  man's  reverend  beauty 

adding  grace  ? 
It  may  be  so  !  listen  !  he  speaks  awhile. 

'  There  is  yet  hope  for  thee  1      If  God 

vouchsafe  to  bless, 
Thou  yet  again  may'st  see  the  blessed 

summer  light  ! 
Though  there's  a  thorny  hedge  of  pain, 

yet  may  access 

Be  gained  thee  to  thy  Eden  of  glad 
sight!' 

The  time  is  come,  the  operation  o'er  ;  yet 

he  must  wait 
One    moment    longer,    with    unopened 

eye,— 


THE    MAIDENS   OF   ENGLAND. 


93 


The  Hofrath  writes  (oh,  what  will  be  his 

fate?), 

Now,  blind  one,  read  !— '  Thank  God  !' 
his  joyous  cry. 

What  words  may  tell  the  unknown  joy  of 

that  glad  heart  ? 
Words   cannot  paint  a  bliss  so  deeply 

felt; 

Like  flakes  of  spring-snow,  like  the  light- 
ning's passing  dart, 

Half-formed  in  glowing  happiness  they 
melt. 

'  Thank  God  ! '  Yes,  after  nine-and-twen- 

ty  years  of  night, 
At  length  awakes  for  him  the  radiant 

day, 
And   the   first  word  which  he  doth  read 

with  glad  new  sight 
Is  'Thank  God  ! '     Thanks,   praise  to 
Him  alway ! 

E'en  had  the  first-seen  sunbeams  not  up- 
borne his  mind 
In  praise  to  Him  who  said,  '  Let  there  be 

light/1 

The  Hofrath's  beautiful  device  must  sure- 
ly find 

A  deep  response,  and  heavenward  turn 
his  sight. 

It  was  a  lovely  thought,  to  place  the  sweet- 
toned  lyre 

At  once  within  the  joy-unnerved  hand  ; 
May  blessings  rest  on  him,   and  may  the 

angel  choir 

Around  him  breathe  the  songs  of  their 
bright  Fatherland. 


1  An  incident  at  Grafrath,  related  by  a  patient 
of  the  skilful  oculist,  Dr.  de  Leuve. 


THE   MAIDENS    OF  ENGLAND. 

ON  THE  PRESENTATION  OF  A  BIBLE  TO  THEIR 
PRINCESS  ROYAX; — 

ERE  the  pathless  ocean  waters 

Bear  thee  far  from  England's  shore, 

Come  we,  England's  youthful  daughters, 
Warmly  greeting  thee  once  more. 

Rarest  jewels,  lustre  flinging, 

Grace  thy  royal  diadem  ; 
Yet  we  come,  an  offering  bringing 

Richer  than  its  richest  gem. 

While  with  prayerful  love  unspoken, 
Princess  !  glows  each  maiden  heart, 

Deign  to  take  this  sacred  token, 
Brightest  lamp  and  surest  chart 

May  its  holy  precepts  guide  thee 
In  each  hour  of  joy  or  sadness  ; 

Yet  may  he  who  stands  beside  thee 
Share  with  thee  unfading  gladness. 

Ever  on  thy  pathway  shining, 
Living  stars  'mid  earthly  night, 

May  its  peace  and  grace  entwining 
Gird  thee  with  a  robe  of  light. 

Rose  of  England  !  fragrance  breathing, 
To  thy  far  new  home  depart, 

Round  thy  early  bloom  enwreathing 
All  the  love  of  England's  heart. 

Be  thy  gladness  ever  vernal 
'Mid  the  wintry  scenes  below, 

Till  a  crown  of  life  eternal 
Gleams  upon  thy  royal  brow  ! 

Father,  be  Thou  ever  near  her  ! 

Saviour,  fill  her  with  Thy  love  ! 
Let  Thy  constant  presence  cheer  her, 

Joy-imparting  Holy  Dove  1 


94 


EARLY  POEMS. 


<NO,  NOT  A  STAR: 

(ANSWER  TO  A  REMARK.) 

No,  not  a  star  /  that  is  a  name  too  beau- 
tiful and  bright 

For  any  earthly  lay  to  wear,  in  this  our 
lingering  night  ; 

But  'mid  the  broken  waters  of  our  ever- 
restless  thought, 

My  verse  should  be  an  answering  gleam 
from  higher  radiance  caught ; 

That  when  through  dark  o'erarching 
boughs  of  sorrow,  doubt  and  sin, 

The  glorious  Star  of  Bethlehem  upon  the 
flood  looks  in, 

Its  tiny  trembling  ray  may  bid  some 
downcast  vision  turn 

To  that  enkindling  Light,  for  which  all 
earthly  shadows  yearn. 

No,    not  a   rainbcnv  I  though   upon   the 

tearful  cloud  it  trace- 
Sweet  messages  of  sparing  love,  of  change- 
less truth  and  grace. 

The  daughter  of  its  meekest  hue  I  would 
my  verse  might  prove, 


The  leaf-veiled  violet,  that  wins  so  many 

a  childish  love  ; 
For  little   hearts   no  wounding  thorn  or 

poison-cup  to  bear, 
But    pleasant   fragrance   and   delight  to 

greet  them  everywhere. 
I  grieve  not  though  each  blossom  fall  with 

swiftly  ripening  spring, 
If  o'er  one  eager  face  a  smile  of  gladness 

it  may  fling. 

No,   not  a  fountain!  though  it  seem  to 

spread  white  angel-wings, 
And  soar  aloft  in  spirit  guise,  no  gentle 

help  it  brings  ; 
It  lives  for  its  own  loveliness  alone,  then 

seeks  once  more 
The  chilly  bosom  of  the  rock  it  slumbered 

in  before. 
Oh,  be  my  verse  a  hidden  stream  which 

silently  may  flow 
Where  drooping  leaf  and  thirsty  flower  in 

lonely  valleys  grow  ; 
Till,    blending   with    the    broad    bright 

stream  of  sanctified  endeavor, 
God's  glory  be  its  ocean  home,  the  end 

it  seeketh  ever  1 


MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS. 


THE  QUEEN  OF  THE  SEA. 

0  SEA,  calm,  sleeping  Sea  !  awake  and  tell 
What  o'er  thee  hath  cast  this    soothing 

spell? 

'  Brightly  the  young  moon  is  beaming 

From  her  purple  throne, 
On  my  waveless  breast  is  gleaming 

Radiance  all  her  own. 

1  have  hushed  each  booming  billow 

For  her  peerless  royal  brow 

Resteth  on  my  glistening  pillow 

Like  a  sleeping  angel  now.' 

O  Sea,  glad  and  playful  Sea  1  what  mean- 
est thou  ? 

What  do  thy  white-winged  wavelets  carol 
now? 

'  Merrily  they  all  are  singing, 
For  with  golden  hand, 

Silver  fetters  she  is  flinging 
O'er  my  fairy  band. 

'Neath  them  blithely  are  they  dancing, 
And  her  jewels  rare  and  bright 

In  their  waving  crests  are  glancing—- 
Liquid diamonds  of  light' 

O  Sea,  wild,  raging  Sea  !  what  horrors  dire 
Have  raised  thy  maniac  wrath,  thy  frenzied 
ire? 

'  Seest  thou  not  the  lightning  flashing 

From  yon  lurid  cloud  ? 
Fiercely  are  my  billows  dashing, 

Foaming,  roaring  loud, 


For  the  frowning  sky  is  veiling 
Darkly  o'er  their  beauteous  Queen 

Fury  mingleth  with  their  wailing 
Till  her  face  again  be  seen. ' 


TWO  POINTS  OF  VIEW. 

TERRIBLE   waves !      In   fierce,  unearthly 

chorus 

Ye  threaten  the  frail  vessel  to  entomb  ; 
Still  darker  than   the-  fearful  storm-cloud 

o'er  us, 
Your  yawning  gulfs  of   death-portending 

gloom. 

Beautiful  waves  I       In  joyous  freedom 

dancing, 
Ye  burst    like   living  things    upon   the 

strand  ; 
Your  snowy   crests  in  the  pure  sunlight 

glancing, 
Flash  like  a  vision  bright  of  fairy-land. 

Oh,  such  are  trials  1  All  Earth's  sons  and 
daughter 

Feel  in  them  awful  messengers  of  ire, 

More  dark  and  dread  than  ocean's  troubled 
waters  ; 

Death,  and  not  Life,  their  horrors  aye  in- 
spire. 

Not  so  in  Heaven  !     On  that  shore   of 

gladness 
Each  past  grief  seems  a  blessing,  and  each 

pain 

95 


96 


MISCELLANEOUS   POEMS. 


Hath  lost  the  midnight  hues  of  earthborn 

sadness, — 
The  once-dark  waves  gleam  bright — each 

loss  appears  a  gain. 


MORNING   SONG. 
(FROM  THE  GERMAN.) 

THE  dawning  day  is  beaming, 

The  long  night  flies  away, 
The  gates  of  light  are  gleaming, 

Oped  by  the  rosy  ray. 
Thou  beauteous  light  of  earth,  all  hail  ! 
Let  not  thy  cheering  presence  fail  1 

Above  all  goodness  dwell eth  ; 

Where,  at  the  font  of  light, 
The  angel-chorus*  swelleth, 

There  it  is  ever  bright ! 
Though  here  in  darksome  vale  we  stray, 
Tis  lighted  by  that  glorious  ray. 

Thy  light  and  blessing  sending 
From  Thine  own  radiant  side, 

While  here  our  dark  paths  wending, 
Be  Thou  our  guard  and  guide. 

Lift  up  the  brightness  of  Thy  face  ! 

Forsake  not,  Lord,   Thy  chosen  race  ! 


EVENING    SONG. 
(FROM  THE   GERMAN.) 

EVENING  now  is  closing 

Over  vale  and  hill  ; 
Peacefully  reposing, 

All  the  world  is  still. 

But  the  brooklet  pouring 
Where  the  tall  rocks  close, 

With  its  restless  roaring 
Ever,  ever  flows. 


Evening  is  not  bringing 
To  its  waters  peace, 

And  no  sweet  bell  ringing, 
Bids  its  turmoil  cease. 

In  its  restless  striving 
I  behold  my  own, — 

True  repose  deriving 
From  my  God  alone. 


PEACE. 

A  SHOUT  of  gladness  is  heard  afar  ; 
They  are  greeting   a   glowing  triumphal 

car; 

And  the  nations  bend  to  the  gentle  sway 
Of  white-robed  Peace,  with  her  olive  spray. 
She  is  come  !  and  the  tongues  of  ten 

thousand  bells 
Re-echo  the  shout  through  our  island  dells. 

She  is  come  !  Like  a  star  from  the  dark- 
some wave 

Arising,  o'er  many  an  unknown  grave  ; 

Like  the  moon,  when  her  sad  eclipse  is 
past, 

Her  silver  fetters  o'er  earth  doth  cast ; 

Like  the  sun,  dispelling  with  ardent  might 

The  gloomy  spectres  and  shades  of  night. 

She  is  come  !     Like  the  falling  of  cool, 

sweet  dew, 
Like  a  buried  flower  which  Spring  doth 

renew ; 

Like  the  burst  of  a  rivulet's  laughing  waves 
From  the  death-like  glacier's  awful  caves  ; 
As  a  pearl  gleams  forth  from  its  dark, 

rough  shell, 
She   is   come  !    and   her  song   is   War's 

funeral  knell. 


FRAGMENTS. 


97 


She  is  come !  with   her  lyre  all   newly 

strung 
For  the  lay  which  the  Bethlehem  angels 

sung: 

Glad  harmony  dwells  in  its  every  tone, 
Triumphantly  ruling  the  song  alone  ; 
For  discord  hath  melted  before  her  sway, 
Like  as  snow-wreath  yields  to  the  warm 

spring  ray. 

She  is  come  !  with  her  diamond-gleam- 
ing zone, 

To  bind  Earth's  children  before  her  throne, 
And  her  flowing  mantle,  which  every  trace 
Of  War's  wild  fury  shall  soon  erase  ; 
Her  golden  crown  is  returning  wealth, 
And   her  balmy  breath   is   the   nation's 
health. 

She  is  come  !   with  blessings  for  each  and 

all, 
For  the  rich  and  poor,  for  the  great  and 

small, 
For  our  own  loved  Queen,  in  her  royal 

chair, 

For  the  poor  man  toiling  for  daily  fare. 
For  the  senate-hall,  for  the  busy  mart, 
Foi  the  striving  mind,  for  the  loving  heart. 

She  is  come !  As  an  angel  from  Heaven 

above, 

With  her  smile  of  joy  and  her  look  of  love; 
Each  grim  foreboding  to  chase  away, 
Each  tenderly  anxious  fear  to  allay  ; 
To  bid  the  death-thunder  of  War  to  cease  ; 
Then  hail  to  the  long,    long  sighed   for 

Peace ! 

She  is  come  !     But  e'en  'neath  her  radiant 

sway 
There  are  those  who  sorrow  each  weary 

day; 

7 


Who  weep  for  the  noble,  the  loved,   the 

brave, 

That  are  resting  now  in  the  Eastern  grave  ? 
Then  oh  !  for  them  let  our  prayers  ascend, 
To  the  orphan's  Father,  the  widow's 

Friend. 

She  is  come  !  Then  our  anthems  shall 

loudly  rise 

To  the  gracious  Ruler  of  earth  and  skies, 
Who  hath  poured  on  us  from  His  chalice 

of  love 

A  sparkling  drop  of  the  Peace  above  ; 
And  hath  stilled  the  dark  billows  of  War 

with  a  word  ! 
Yes!  our  grateful  songs  shall  be  widely 

heard. 

She  is  come  !     But  oh  !  she  may   pass 

away, 

Like  the  fleeting  brightness  of  April's  ray, 
And  War's  fierce  tempest  arise  once  more  ! 
Then  in  faith  let  us  '  onward  and  upward ' 

soar, 
Where  the  many  jarrings  of  earth  shall. 

cease, 
In  the  glorious  reign   of  the  Prince   of 

Peace. 


FRAGMENTS. 

I  WANDER  in  fancy  far  away 

To  scenes  of  many  a  summer  day, 

Beautiful  even  now 
In  the  pale  and  wan  November  ray, 
When  Nature  lays  her  cooling  hand 
On  the  hot  and  aching  brow, 
And   quiets  the  throbbing  heart,  with  a 

touch, 
And  whispers  much, 


98 


MISCELLANEOUS   POEMS. 


In  her  own  dear  musical  tone, 

Of  rest  and  calm, 

And  peace  and  balm, 
Till  the  heart  is  tuned  to  her  own  sweet 
psalm, 

And  feels  no  more  alone. 
Oh,  the  healing  she  has  brought ! 
Oh,  the  cures  that  she  has  wrought ! 
Only  engage  her  as  nurse  and  physician, 
And  let  her  fulfil  her  miraculous  mission, 

And  you  will  find 

That  she  leaves  behind 
All  the  wonders  of  homoeopathy. 

Oh  !   I  could  tell, 

For  I  know  so  well, 

How  the  unstrung  nerves  are  tuned  again, 
And  the  load  rolls  off  from  the  tired  brain, 
And  strength  comes  back  to  the  languid 

frame, 

And  existence  hardly  seems  the  same. 
Her  process  is  surer  far  and  shorter, 
When  out  of  reach  of  bricks  and  mortar  ! 
When  all  her  gentle  remedies 
Are  brought  to  bear,  till  the  work  is  done. 

Oh  !  give  to  me 
A  pierless  and  paradeless  sea, 
With  a  shore  as  God  made  it,  grand  and 

free, 
And  not  a  mere  triumph  of  masonry  : 

Where  the  thundering  shocks, 

And  the  Titan  play 

Of  the  wild,  white  spray, 
Which  dies  on  the  shingly  beach, 

With  a  golden  reach 

Of  fair  smooth  sand, 

Laid  by  the  hand 

Of  the  lulling  tide, 
Inviting  many  a  stroll  or  ride. 

Oh,  for  the  pure  and  lovely  shell ! 

Oh,  for  the  crimson  frond  ! 


Witness  of  all  fair  forms  that  dwell 

In  the  marvellous  deep  below  and  beyond, 

Where  living  flowers 

From  mermaids'  bowers. 

Many  a  living  star, 

Many  a  crystal,  many  a  spar, 
Where  Nature  distributes  all  her  treasures, 
And  all  her  special  sea-side  pleasures. 

Oh,  give  me  the  rocks  of  Ilfracombe, 
With  their  witchery  of  gleam  and  gloom, 
With  the  crystal  pools  in  the  tide-swept 

cave, 

Where  myriad  fairy  forests  wave, 
And  the  delicate  fringes  of  crimson  and 

green, 

Purple  and  amber,  ruby  and  rose, 
With  snowy  gleaming  shells  between, 
And  marvellous  forms  of  life  are  seen, 
While  the  musical  tide  still  ebbs  and  flows  ; 
Where  not  a  step  but  brings  to  view 
Something  exquisite,  something  rare, 
Something  marvellously  fair, 

Always  beautiful,  always  new. 

My  heart  is  wandering  still 

At  its  strange  and  wayward  will. 

Oh,  for  the  Glen  of  the  Waters'  Meet, 

Where  the  merry  Lyn  leaps  down 

To  that  loveliest  vale  below, 
And  hastens  to  join  the  Channel  flow ; 
Where  the  Lynton  cliffs,  without  a  frown, 

Majestically  crown 
This  mingling  of  sublime  and  sweet 
And  oh,  for  the  mighty  roar 
At  the  foot  of  Penmaenmawr  ! 

Or  an  autumn  storm 

On  the  Greater  Orme, 
Where  the  giant  breakers  hurl  their  spray 

At  the  mountain's  mighty  breast, 


MAY   DAY. 


99 


And  the  wild  wind,  mingling  in  the  fray, 
Seizes  and  whirls  it  high  and  away 

Over  the  proud  rock's  crest ; 

While  the  maddened  waves 

Rush  into  the  caves 
With  thunder  and  growl,   and  rush  back 

again, 

As  if  the  assault  had  been  all  in  vain, 
But  only  to  gather  in  awful  might 
For  a  tenfold  struggle  of  fiercer  fight. 
Who  would  have  time  for  a  thought   of 

care, 
Or  a  fit  of  the  blues,  if  standing  tjiere ! 

Away  !  away !  to  the  bracing  North, 

To  the  grand  old  seas 

Of  the  Hebrides, 

To  the  sunny  Clyde,  or  the  silver  Forth, 
Purple  heather  above,  and  shadowy  loch 

below, 
Golden  glory  of  furze,  and  a  far-off  wealth 

of  snow, 
Violet  peaks  afar,  and  dark  green  pines 

anear, 

And  long  bright  evenings  so  soft  and  clear, 
And  concert  halls  of  birdies  sweet 
Trill  and  carol  so  blithely  meet ; — 
Treasures  untold,  their  myriad  gleam 
Is  far  beyond  a  poet's  dream. 


THE  WANDERING  SUNBEAM. 

IT  wandered  far,  that  sunbeam  bright, 

To  mortal  eyes  of  purest  light,  — 

And,  gladdening  all  o'er  whom  it  beamed, 

A  seraph's  smile  of  joy  it  seemed. 

But  farther  yet  it  longed  to  soar, 

Where  earthly  darkness  dims  no  more, 

To  visit  that  abode  of  light, 

Too  dazzling  far  for  human  sight. 

On  glowing  wing  through  space  it  flew, 

Till  Heaven's  own  glory  was  in  view, 


And  through  the  pearly  gates  it  passed, 
Which  only  light,  not  shado\vj  cast. 
Then  burst  upon  the  wondering  Ray 
The  radiance  fair  of  perfect  Day. 
A  beauteous  seraph  passed  along, 
The  Sunbeam  heard  the  thrilling  song ; 
But  quickly  ceased  the  gladsome  lay, 
The  swift-winged  seraph  fled  away  ! 
What  might  that  haste,   that  strange  fear 

mean  ? 

What  dreaded  spectre  had  he  seen  ? 
'  An  earth-born  cloud  of  darksome  Night 
Hath  dared  to  scale  the  walls  of  light ; 
O'er  yon  fair  hill  a  shade  is  thrown, 
Which  only  in  those  worlds  is  known 
Which  far  from  Heaven's  pure  boundaries 

lie, 

To  Chaos'  gloomy  realm  more  nigh. ' 
Thus  spake  he  to  a  marvelling  throng, 
But  gazed  not  on  the  Sunbeam  long  ; 
An  angel's  eye  was  far  too  pure 
E'en  that  fair  Sunray  to  endure. 
Nor  long  remained  it  there  to  tell 
In  what  strange  darkness  Earth  must  dwell, 
Too  gross  with  beams  of  heavenly  birth 
To  mix,  yet  to  return  to  Earth 
Too  glorious,  since  its  joyful  gaze 
Had  met  those  all-effulgent  rays. 
Half  way  to  Earth  it  flew,  and  there, 
While  yet  its  wing  Heaven's  radiance  bare, 
It  rested,  and  became  a  star, 
To  tell  Earth's  children  from  afar, 
How  infinitely  pure  and  bright 
Is  Heaven's  eternal  shadeless  light. 


MAY  DAY. 


O  HASTE,  O  haste  to  the  fields  away ! 

For  dawneth  now  the  month  of  May  ; 
O  leave  the  city's  crowded  street, 

And  haste  ye  now  sweet  May  to  greet 


IOO 


MISCELLANEOUS   POEMS. 


For  May  is  come  on  laiiy  wings, 
And  thousand  beauties  with  her  brings  ; 

The  fairest  month  of  all  the  year, 
Oh,  well  can  she  the  sad  heart  cheer. 

Nature  her  jewelry  displays, 

Unfolds  her  gems  to  meet  our  gaze  ; 
Bright  leaves  and  buds  of  emerald  hue, 

Forget-me-nots  of  sapphire  blue. 

The  pearly  lily's  drooping  bells, 
Listen  !  a  tale  it  sweetly  tells  : 

'  If  God  so  clothe  the  lilies  fair, 
Much  more  may  ye  trust  in  His  care. ' 

The  turquoise  gentianella  bright, 

The  shining  king-cup's  golden  light, 

Carnation's  ruby  hues  behold, 
And  silvery  daisy  set  with  gold. 

Of  these  we'll  twine  a  garland  gay, 

Meet  for  the  brow  of  beauteous  May ; 

And  see,  they  gain  a  brighter  hue 
By  glittering  drops  of  diamond  dew. 

Now  hark  !  what  sound  so  sweetly  floats 
Upon  the  breeze  ?     The  cuckoo's  notes ! 

How  far  they  come  to  welcome  May, 
And  pour  for  us  the  simple  lay  ! 


FOREST    VOICES. 

THE  forest  hath  its  voices, 
Whose  sweetness  aye  rejoices, 

Or  soothes  the  spirit  wondrously  ; 
Borne  on  their  leafy  wings, 
They  tell  of  quiet  things 

And  mingle  in  strange  harmony. 

There  is  a  murmuring  song, 
A  cadence  soft  and  long, 
Evoking  dreams  of  still  delight ; 


There  is  a  clarion  note, 
Whose  blithesome  echoes  float, 
Chasing  the  darkling  spells  of  grief  and 
night. 

There  is  a  whispering  sound 

Within  the  forest-bound, 
Telling  the  heart  of  things  unseen  ; 

That  nameless  holy  thrill 

Passeth  o'er  vale  and  hill 
And  through  the  dark  and  lone  ravine. 

It  is  a  harp  sublime 

With  ever-varying  chime, 
Awakening  feelings  ever  new  ; 

For  tuned  by  Him  who  made 

The  all  harmonious  shade, 
Each  forest-voice  is  sweet  and  true. 


THE  SHOWER. 

ON  every  budding  leaf  and  flower, 
The  sweet,  soft  rain  of  spring 

Comes  down  in  a  soft  and  gentle  shower, 
Like  a  whispering  angel-wing. 

The  shower  hath  bow'd  the  proud  red  rose, 

With  many  a  fragrant  tear, 
It  hath  wakened  the  harebell's  long  repose, 

The  wanderer  now  to  cheer. 

It  hath  given  the  woodbine  strength   to 
cling 

To  the  strong  elm's  rugged  bough  ; 
And  the  wakeful  pimpernel  folds  its  wing, 

And  quietly  slumbers  now. 

It  hath  watered  the  seeds  in   their  cold 

dark  bed, 
And  they  burst  through  the  prisoning 

clay. 

To  the  lingering  buds  it  hath  gently  said, 
'Unfold  to  the  bright  sun-ray/ 


TINY  TOKENS. 


101 


Among  the  leaves  of  the  forest-tree 

Its  gentle  footsteps  go, 
And  they  murmur  thanks  so  pleasantly 

In  an  anthem  soft  and  low. 


Showers  there  are  for  the  thirsty  soul, 

A  sweet  and  refreshing  dew, 
The  Spirit  who  makes  the  wounded  whole 

And  the  evil  heart  makes  new. 

He  will  teach  the  trembling  one  to  cling 
To  an  Arm  of  love  and  might ; 

And   the    earth-stained    soul   'neath   His 

holy  wing 
Shall  again  be  pure  and  white. 

The  weary  heart  with  its  wild  unrest 
He  can  hush  to  a  trustful  calm  ; 

To  the  spirit  crushed  and  sorely  pressed 
He  comes  with  His  healing  balm. 

He  comes  to  the  soul  in  its  sin-wrought 

tomb, 

And  rent  are  the  chains  of  death  ! 
Then    His  own  sweet  graces  awake  and 

bloom 
Beneath  His  living  breath. 

Yes !   the  Spirit  shall  teach  the  heart  to 

sing, 

And  shall  tune  its  long  silent  lyre, 
And    He  who  shall  meeten  it  praise   to 

bring 
In  the  sinless,  white-robed  choir. 

Come  then,  O  Spirit,  as  once  of  yore, 
Come  in  Thy  quickening  might ! 

Come,  on  Thy  waiting  Church  to  pour 
Thy  life,  Thy  grace,  Thy  light 


TINY  TOKENS. 


THE  murmur  of  a  waterfall 

A  mile  away, 
The  rustle  when  a  robin  lights 

Upon  a  spray, 
The  lapping  of  a  lowland  stream 

On  dipping  boughs, 
The  sound  of  grazing  from  a  herd 

Of  gentle  cows, 
The  echo  from  a  wooded  hill 

Of  cuckoo's  call, 
The  quiver  through  the  meadow  grass 

At  evening  fall  : — 
Too  subtle  are  these  harmonies 

For  pen  and  rule, 
Such  music  is  not  understood 

By  any  school  : 
But  when  the  brain  is  overwrought, 

It  hath  a  spell, 
Beyond  all  human  skill  and  power, 

To  make  it  well. 

ii. 

The  memory  of  a  kindly  word 

For  long  gone  by, 
The  fragrance  of  a  fading  flower 

Sent  lovingly, 
The  gleaming  of  a  sudden  smile 

Or  sudden  tear. 
The  warmer  pressure  of  the  hand, 

The  tone  of  cheer, 
The  hush  that  means  '  I  cannot  speak, 

But  I  have  heard  !' 
The  note  that  only  bears  a  verse 

From  God's  own  Word  : — 
Such  tiny  things  we  hardly  count 

As  ministry  ; 
The  givers  deeming  they  have  shown 

Scant  sympathy : 


102 


MISCELLANEOUS   POEMS. 


But  when  the  heart  is  overwrought, 

Oh,  who  can  tell 
The  power  of  such  tiny  things 

To  make  it  well  ! 


APRIL. 

O  THE  wealth  of  pearly  blossom,  O  the 

woodland's  emerald  gleam  ! 
O  the  welcome,  welcome  sunshine  on  the 

diamond-sparkling  stream  ! 
O  the  carol  from  the  hawthorn  and  the 

trill  from  dazzling  blue  ! 
O  the  glory  of  the  spring-time,  making  all 

things  bright  and  new  ! 
O  the  rosy  eve's  surrender 
To  the  Easter  moonlight  tender ! 
O  the  early  morning  splendor, 

Fresh  and  fragrant,  cool  and  clear, 

In  the  rising  of  the  year  ! 
O  the  gladness  of  the  children  after  all  the 

dismal  days, 
In  the  freedom  and  the  beauty  and  the 

heart-rejoicing  rays ! 
Do  we  chill  the  gleeful  spirit,  check  the 

pulses  bounding  fast, 
By  the  mournful  doubt  suggested  :   '  Ah, 

but,  darling,  will  it  last? 

Though  we  know  there  may  be  tempests, 

and  we  know  there  will  be  showers, 
Yet  we  know  they  only  hasten  summer's 

richer  crown  of  flowers. 
Blossom  leads  to  golden  fruitage,  bursting 

bud  to  foliage  soon  ; 
April's  pleasant  gleam  shall  strengthen  to 

the  glorious  glow  of  June. 
April  leads  to  joyous  May-time, 
With  its  ever-lengthening  day-time  : 
This  again  to  joyous  hay-time, 
When  the  harvest- home  is  near, 
In  the  zenith  of  the  year. 


So  we  only  tell  the  children  of  the  sunnier 

days  in  store, 
Of  the  treasures  and  the  beauties  that  shall 

open  more  and  more. 
So  the  silver  carol  rises,  for  the  winter-time 

is  past ! 
When  the  summer  days  are  coming,  need 

we  ask  if  spring  shall  last  ? 

O  the  gladness  of  the  spirit,   when  the 
true  and  Only  Light 

Pours  in  radiant  resplendence,  making  all 
things  new  and  bright ! 

When  the  love  of  Jesus  shineth  in  its  over- 
coming power, 

When  the  secret  sweet  communion  hal- 
lows every  passing  hour. 
O  the  calm  and  happy  resting, 
Free  from  every  fear  molesting  ! 
O  the  Christ-victorious  breasting 
Of  the  tempter's  varied  art, 
In  the  spring-time  of  the  heait ! 

O  the  freedom  and  the  fervor  after  all  the 
faithless  days  ! 

O  the  ever-new  thanksgiving  and  the  ever- 
flowing  praise  ! 

Shall  we  tempt  the  gaze  from  Jesus,  and 
a  doubting  shadow  cast, 

Satan's  own  dark  word  suggesting  by  the 
whisper  '  "If"  it  last'? 

Though  we  know  there  must  be  trials  and 
there  will  be  tears  below, 

Yet  we  know  His  glorious  purpose,  and 
His  promises  we  know  ! 

Only  ask — '  What  saith  the  Master  ? '  and 
believe  His  word  alone, 

That    '  from  glory   unto  glory '  He  shall 

lead,  shall  change  His  own. 
Ever  more  and  more  bestowing, 
Love  and  joy  in  riper  glowing, 

Faith  increasing,  graces  growing — 
Such  His  promises  to  you  ! 
He  is  faithful,  He  is  true  ! 


SO    WE    ONLY  TELL   THE  CHILDREN    OF   THE    SUNNIER    DAYS    IN    STOKE, 

OF  THE   TREASURES  AND  THE   BEAUTIES   THAT  SHALL  OPEN    MORE   AND   MORE. 


Page  102. 


THE   SONG   OF   A   SUMMER   STREAM. 


103 


Each  Amen  becomes  an  anthem,  for  we 

know  He  will  fulfil 
All  the  purpose  of  His  goodness,  all  the 

splendor  of  His  will. 
Only  trust  the  living  Saviour,  only   trust 

Him  all  the  way, 
And  your  Spring-tide  path  shall  brighten 

to  the  perfect  summer  day  ! 


THE   SONG   OF  A    SUMMER 
STREAM. 

A  FEW  months  ago 
I  was  singing  through  the  snow, 
Though  the  dead  brown  boughs  gave  no 

hope  of  summer  shoots, 
And  my  persevering  fall 
Seemed  to  be  no  use  at  all, 
For  the  hard,  hard  frost  would  not  let  me 
reach  the  roots. 

Then  the  mists  hung  chill 
All  along  the  wooded  hill, 
And  the  cold,  sad  fog  through  my  lonely 

dingles  crept ; 
I  was  glad  I  had  no  power 
To  awake  one  tender  flower 
To  a  sure,  swift  doom  !     I  would  rather 
that  it  slept. 

Still  I  sang  all  alone 
In  the  sweet  old  summer  tone, 
For  the  strong  white  ice  could  not  hush  me 

for  a  day  ; 

Though  no  other  voice  was  heard 
But  the  bitter  breeze  that  whirred 
Past  the  gaunt,  grey  trunks  on  its  wild  and 
angry  way. 

So  the  dim  days  sped, 

While  everything  seemed  dead, 


And  my  own  poor  flow  seemed  the  only 

living  sign  ; 

And  the  keen  stars  shone 
When  the  freezing  night  came  on, 
From  the  far,  far  heights,  all  so  cold  and 
crystalline. 

A  few  months  ago 
I  was  singing  through  the  snow  ! 
But  now  the  blessed  sunshine  is  filling  all 

the  land, 

And  the  memories  are  lost 
Of  the  winter  fog  and  frost, 
In  the  presence  of  the  Summer  with  her 
full  and  glowing  hand. 

Now  the  woodlark  comes  to  drink 
At  my  cool  and  pearly  brink, 
And  the  ladyfern  is  bending  to  kiss  my 

rainbow  foam  ; 

And  the  wild-rose  buds  entwine 
With  the  dark-leaved  bramble-vine, 
And  the  centuried  oak  is  green  around  the 
bright-eyed  squirrel's  home. 

0  the  full  and  glad  content, 
That  my  little  song  is  blent 

With  the  all-melodious   mingling  of  the 
choristers  around  ! 

1  no  longer  sing  alone 
Through  a  chill  surrounding  moan, 

For  the   very  air  is   trembling  with  its 
wealth  of  summer  sound. 

Though  the  hope  seemed  long  deferred, 
Ere  the  south  wind's  whisper  heard 
Gave  a  promise  of  the  passing  of  the  weary 

winter  days, 

Yet  the  blessing  was  secure, 
For  the  summer  time  was  sure 
When  the  lonely  songs  are  gathered  in  the 
mighty  choir  of  praise. 


IO4 


MISCELLANEOUS   TOEMS. 


AN  A  UTUMN  HOLIDAY. 

I  DON'T  want  to  think  about  'the  mean- 
ing/ 
I  don't  want  to  think  fine  thoughts  at 

all! 

On  the  great  heather  cushions  leaning, 
I'm  watching  the  sunset,  that  is  all ! 

Why  should  I  puzzle  and  tease  with  ques- 
tions, 
When   Nature  shows  me  her  picture- 

|b>ook  ? 

I  will  leave  her  to  make  her  own  sugges- 
tions, 
And  just  do  nothing,  but  sit  and  look. 

I  have  finished  the  work  of  a  busy  season, 
And  I  want  to  quiet  a  busy  brain, 

Now  is  the  time  for  rest  (in  reason), 
Before  I  begin  a  new  campaign. 

And  oh,  it  is  rest,  and  most  delicious, 
To  know  that  I  need  not  speak  a  word  ; 

By  only  the  midges  (most  officious  !) 
Could  anything  here  be  overheard. 

Isn't  it  nice  !     The  bracken  browning 
Is  almost  gold  in  the  autumn  glow, 

And  the  silver  birch,   with  the  same  fair 

crowning, 
Gleams  like  a  streak  of  glistening  snow. 

The  sweet  south  air  is  so  soft  and  quiet, 
Stealing  along  through  the  fern  to  me, 

After  the  most  uncivil  riot 

Of  his  cousin  from  over  the  western  sea. 

The  broad  blaze  hides  all  the  fresh-foldings, 

Under  the  flood  of  sunset  light, 
And  touches  anew  all  the  quarry  mould- 
ings 

Of  the  eastern  hills  with  its  gilding 
bright. 


The  clouds  are  hanging  a  cool  grey  cur- 
tain, 

Up  in  the  north  till  the  sun  gets  low  ; 
Only  biding  their  time,  and  certain 

Then  to  flaunt  in  a  crimson  show. 

Slowly,  slowly  the  sun  is  sinking, 

Silence  and  glory  are  everywhere  ! 
No  more  writing,  and  no  more  thinking, 
Only  rest  in  the  golden  air  ! 


THE  SONG  OF  LOVE. 

I  PASSED  along  the  meadows  fair, 
The  lark's  loud  carol  filled  the  air, 

A  living  song  up-soaring. 
A  wanderer  passed  along,  and  sang 
A  song  that  all  the  lark's  outrang, 
His  very  soul  outpouring. 

'  Still  onward  to  my  quiet  home, 
With  yearning,  glad  endeavor, 
Still  singing  all  the  way  I  roam 
A  song  of  love  for  ever.' 

I  passed  along  the  forest  green, 
And  heard  a  song  ring  out  between 

The  leafy  aisles  o'eraching. 
The  music  filled  the  silent  shade, 
The  singer  passed  through  glen  and  glade, 
With  steady  footsteps  marching. 
'  Still  onward  to  my  quiet  home, 
With  yearning,  glad  endeavor, 
Still  singing  all  the  way  I  roam 
A  song  of  love  for  ever.' 

I  lingered  by  the  river  side, 
And  watched  a  tiny  vessel  glide, 

And  saw  the  white  sails  glisten  ; 
The  helm  was  in  the  wanderer's  hand, 
The  same  clear  music  reached  the  strand 

And  bid  my  whole  soul  listen. 


THE  POET'S  ZENITH. 


105 


'  Still  onward  to  my  quiet  home, 
With  yearning,  glad  endeavor, 

Still  singing  all  the  way  I  roam 
A  song  of  love  for  ever. ' 

I  passed  the  quiet  churchyard  bound, 
And  stood  beside  a  new-made  mound 

In  silent  sunset  glory  ; 
The  flowering  grasses,  fresh  and  fair, 
Waved  lightly  in  the  golden  air, 
And  softly  told  the  story. 

*  He  resteth  in  his  blessed  home, 
Whence  nothing  now  can  sever, 
Still  singing,  though  no  more  to  roam, 
His  song  of  love  for  ever.' 


THE  AWAKENING. 

So  it  has  come  to  you,  dear, 

Come  so  soon  ! 
Come  in  the  sunshine  early, 
Come  in  the  morning  pearly, 

Not  in  the  blaze  of  noon. 

Yes,  it  has  come  to  you,  dear, 

Strange  and  sweet  ; 
Come  ere  the  merry  May-time 
Melts  to  the  glowing  hay-time, 

Hushed  in  the  sultry  heat. 

Come — with  mysterious  shadow, 

Weird  and  new, — 
Come  with  a  magic  lustre, 
Hung  on  the  shining  cluster 
Ripening  fast  for  you. 

Come  !  and  the  exquisite  minor, 

Rich  and  deep, 
Swells  with  ^Eolian  blending 
Chords  of  the  spirit,  ending 
Boyhood's  enchanted  sleep. 


Sleep  that  is  past  for  ever  ! 

Is  it  gain  ? 

What  does  the  waking  seem  like  ? 
Love  that  is  only  dream-like 
Sings  not  a  truthful  strain. 

Hearts  that  have  roused  and  listened 

Never  more, 

(Though  they  may  miss  the  crossed  tones, 

Though  they  may  mourn  the  lost  tones, ) 

Sleep  as  they  slept  before. 

Come  !  and  the  great  transition 

Now  is  past ! 
Never  again  the  boy-life, 
Only  the  pain — and  joy-life, 
More  of  the  first  than  last. 

Come  !  and  they  do  not  guess  it, 

Why  such  a  change  ! 
Why  should  the  mirth  and  riot 
Tone  into  manly  quiet ! 
Is  it  not  passing  strange  ? 

Come  !     'Tis  a  night  of  wonder 

At  this  call. 
Characters  cabalistic, 
Writings  all  dim  and  mystic 
Tremble  upon  the  wall. 

Come  !  am  I  glad  or  sorry  ? 

Wait  and  see  ! 

Wait  for  God's  silent  moulding, 
Wait  for  His  full  unfolding, 
Wait  for  the  days  to  be. 


THE  POETS   ZENITH. 

NIGHT  is  heavy  on  the  valley  where  the 

river  mist  is  chill, 
Heavy,    where  the  cloud  pavilion   closes 

round  the  silent  hill ; 


io6 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 


Every  tiny  light  that  glimmered  from  the 
windows  near  and  far, 

One  by  one  in  sudden  darkness  has  van- 
ished like  a  lonely  star. 

All  but  one,  and  that  is  shining  where  the 
midnight  air  creeps  in, 

Cooling  with  its  clammy  touch  a  burning 
brow  and  fingers  thin  ; 

Brow  inscribed  by  graving  tool  of  thought 
in  life's  deep  colors  dipped, 

Fingers  that  are  resting  proudly  on  un- 
finished manuscript. 

*  Finished!  Tis  my  best,  I  take  it,— 
best  that  bears  my  name  as  yet  ; 

I  am  weary,  but  'tis  worth  it,  now  my 
signature  is  set. 

How  the  closing  verses  thrilled  me ! 
seemed  that  they  were  hardly  mine, 

Flashing  up  in  bright  succession  at  my 
summons  line  by  line. 

It  has  been  as  though  my  spirit  leapt  be- 
yond herself,  and  left 

Half  her  being  yet  entangled  in  a  sombre 
earthly  weft, 

While  her  essence  soared  unfearing  up- 
ward to  the  Infinite, 

With  a  new  and  sudden  power,  with  a 
new  and  sudden  light. 

Year  by  year  have  many  listened  to  the 
truths  I  sought  to  teach, 

But  the  work  this  night  sees  ended,  many 
more  shall  surely  reach. 

It  is  farther,  farther  reaching,  fond  ideals 
nearing  more 

Than  the  last,  yet  that  was  stronger  than 
the  one  that  came  before. 

Finished  !  but  I  know  my  power,  know 
that  I  have  more  to  say, 

Know  that  better  work  and  deeper  shall 
be  done  another  day.' 


Was  it  so  ?     The  hair  grew  greyer,    but 

the  eye  retained  its  light  ; 
Year  by  year  his   shining  fire-notes   fell 

into  the  human  night, 
And  his  audience  grew  larger,  more  and 

more  the  souls  he  stirred, 
Till  the  Poet's  name  had  risen  to  become 

a  household  word. 
Yet  a  whisper  rose  and  mingled  with  the 

shoutings  of  his  fame  : 
'This  or  that  is  splendid,  adding  lustre 

to  a  lustrous  name, 
Some  for  tenderness  and  sweetness,  some 

for  favor  and  for  force  ; 
All   his  later  works  are  fine,  and  so  we 

read  them — oh,  of  course  ! 
But  the  focus  of  his  power,  in  the  poem 

we  love  best, 
Stands  alone  for  depth  and   beauty,    far 

outweighing  all  the  rest. 
There's  a  vividness,   a   glory,    something 

felt  though  not  defined, 
Making  one  forget  the  poet  in  that  light 

and  truth  combined. 
Not  an  old  man,  and  experience  adding 

treasure  for  his  mint ! 
Yet  his  golden  coin  seems  bearing   less 

imperial  imprint. 
It  is  heresy,  we  know  it,   for  his  verse  is 

all  so  good, 
But  why  does  he  never  write  as  once  he 

did  and  surely  could  ?' 

Well,    the   fatal   whisper    reached    him, 

floated  like  a  seed  of  grief, 
Thistle-down,     that     soon    upspringing, 

wounded  him  with  thorny  leaf; 
Slowly,  surely,  came  the  knowledge  that 

the  springtide  of  his  power 
An  unknown  had  reached  its  zenith  in  the 

rapture  of  an  hour ; 


THE  LORELY. 


107 


That  the  ebbing   and  the  flowing  never 

reached  the  shining  mark 
Where  the  wave  of  life  rose  highest  in  that 

midnight  still  and  dark. 


MISCHIEF  MAKING. 

ONLY  a  tiny  dropping 

From  a  tiny  hidden  leak ; 

But  the  flow  is  never  stopping, 
And  the  flaw  is  far  to  seek. 

Only  some  trickling  water, 

Nothing  at  all  at  first  ; 
But  it  grows  to  a  valley-slaughter, 

For  the  reservoir  has  burst ! 

The  wild  flood  once  in  motion, 
Who  shall  arrest  its  course  ? 

As  well  restrain  the  ocean 
As  that  ungoverned  force  ! 

Mourn  for  the  desolations, 
And  help  the  ruined  men, 

Till  next  spring's  fair  creations 
Make  the  valley  smile  again. 

Help  with  a  free,  pure  pity, 

For  your  hands  in  this  are  clean, 

You  dwelt  in  the  far-off  city, 
With  many  a  mile  between. 

You  did  not  watch  the  flowing 
Of  the  treacherous,  trickling  rill ; 

You  did  not  aid  the  growing 
Of  the  tiny  rifts  in  the  hill. 

What  if  you  had  ?     I  leave  it. 
It  is  too  dark  a  thought ; 

How  could  the  heart  conceive  it  ? 
How  came  it,  all  unsought  ? 


n. 

A  look  of  great  affliction, 

As  you  tell  what  one  told  you, 

With  a  feeble  contradiction, 
Or  a  '  hope  it  is  not  true  1' 

A  story  quite  too  meagre 

For  naming  any  more, 
Only  your  friend  seems  eager 

To  know  a  little  more. 

No  doubt  of  explanation, 
If  all  were  known,  you  see  ; 

One  might  get  information 
From  Mrs.  A.  or  B. 

Only  some  simple  queries 

Passed  on  from  tongue  to  tongue, 
Though  the  ever-growing  series 

Has  out  of  nothing  sprung. 

Only  a  faint  suggestion, 

Only  a  doubtful  hint, 
Only  a  leading  question 

With  a  special  tone  or  tint. 

Only  a  low  '  I  wonder  !' 

Nothing  unfair  at  all ; 
But  the  whisper  grows  to  thunder, 

And  a  scathing  bolt  may  fall  ; 

And  a  good  ship  is  dismasted, 
And  hearts  are  like  to  break, 

And  a  Christian  life  is  blasted, 
For  a  scarcely-guessed  mistake  ! 


THE  LORELY. 

AH,  where  are  the  echoes  of  gladness 
Which  dwell  in  my  listening  mind  ? 

What  meaneth  the  whisper  of  sadness, 
Like  the  moan  of  the  autumn  wind  ? 


io8 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 


I  am  chained  by  an  often  told  story, 
Come  down  from  the  olden  time 

When  fairydom  saw  its  glory, 
A  haunting,  saddening  chime. 

The  air  is  still  and  darkling, 
And  silently  flows  the  Rhine  ; 

The  mountain  peaks  are  sparkling, 
Where  sunset  rays  yet  shine. 

A  strangely  beauteous  maiden 
Sits  high  on  the  grim  rock  there, 

Her  arms  are  with  rich  gems  laden, 
She  combeth  her  golden  hair. 

With  a  golden  comb  she  is  combing, 
And  sings  an  enchanted  song, 

And  wondrously  through  the  gloaming 
That  melody  floats  along. 

Then  a  wild  weird  sorrow  amazeth 
The  boatman  in  gliding  skiff, 

While  upward  alone  he  gazeth 
He  sees  not  the  fatal  cliff. 

The  wave-bells  a  knell  are  ringing, 
For  the  Rhine  his  prey  hath  won, 

And  that  with  her  syren-singing 
Hath  the  Sprite  of  the  Lorely  done. 


FOR  DENMARK,  HOI 

FOR  Denmark,  ho ! 

Is  the  cry,  we  know, 
And  the  shout, — Arise,  arise  1 

They  are  struggling  long 

'Gainst  might  and  wrong, 
The  valiant  weak,  with  the  craven  strong, 
Their  homes  the  invader's  prize. 

A  fair  fresh  Rose, 

From  her  northern  snows, 


Is  worn  on  England's  heart, 

And  shall  England  see 

Her  parent  tree 
Crushed  by  malice  ?     It  shall  not  be, — 

Ours  be  the  helper's  part. 

Let  a  voice  of  might 

For  the  just  and  right 
Resound  o'er  sea  and  land  ; 

Let  the  olive  fade 

Ere  we  fail  in  aid, 

And  the  far  seen  gleams  of  a  half-drawn 
blade 

Flash  from  our  ready  hand. 


MY  SINGING  LESSON. 

ABSTRACT. 

HERE   beginneth — chapter   the   first  of  a 

series, 
To  be  followed   by   manifold   notes   and 

queries  ; 

So  novel  the  queries,  so  trying  the  notes, 
I  think  I  must  have  the  queerest  of  throats, 
And  most  notable  dulness,  or  else  long  ago 
The  Signor  had  given  up  teaching,  I  trow. 
I  wonder  if  ever  before  he  has  taught 
A  pupil  who  can't  do  a  thing  as  she  ought ! 

The   voice   has   machinery — (now  to   be 

serious), 

Invisible,   delicate,   strange,   and    myste- 
rious. 

A  wonderful  organ-pipe  firstly  we  trace, 
Which  is  small  in  a  tenor  and  wide  in  a 

bass  ; 

Below  an  ^Eolian  harp  is  provided, 
Through  whose  fairy-like  fibres  the  air  will 

be  guided. 

Above  is  an  orifice,  larger  or  small 
As  the  singer  desires  to  rise  or  to  fall ; 


TO   THE   CHOIR   OF  LLANGRYFFYTH. 


109 


Expand  and  depress  it  to  deepen  your  roar, 
But  raise  and  contract  it  when  high   you 

would  soar. 

Alas  for  the  player,  the  pipes,  and  the  keys, 
If  the   bellows   give   out  an  inadequate 

breeze  ! 

So  this  is  the  method  of  getting  up  steam, 
The  one  motive   power  for  song   or  for 

scream  : 

Slowly  and  deeply,  and  just  like  a  sigh, 
Fill  the  whole  chest  with  a  mighty  supply  ; 
Through  the  mouth  only,  and  not  through 

the  nose, 
And  the  lungs  must  condense  it  ere  farther 

it  goes 

(How  to  condense  it,  I  really  don't  know, 
And  very  much  hope  the  next  lesson  will 

show). 
Then,  forced  from  each  side,  through  the 

larynx  it  comes, 
And  reaches  the   region   of  molars  and 

gums, 

And  half  of  the  sound  will  be  ruined  or  lost 
If  by  any  impediment  here  it  is  crossed. 
On  the  soft  of  the   palate    beware   lest  it 

strike, 
The  effect  would   be  such   as  your  ear 

would  not  like. 
And  arch  not  the  tongue,  or  the  terrified 

note 
Will  straightway  be  driven  back  into  the 

throat. 
Look  well  to  your  trigger,  nor  hasten  to 

pull  it : 
Once  hear  the  report  and  you've  done  with 

your  bullet. 
In  the  feminine  voice   there   are  registers 

three, 
Which  upper,  and  middle,  and  lower  must 

be; 
And  each  has  a  sounding-board  all  of  its 

own, 


The  chest,  lips,  and  head,  to  reverberate 

tone. 

But  in  cavities  nasal  it  neverlnust  ring, 
Or  no  one  is  likely  to  wish  you  to  sing. 
And  if  on  this  subject  you  waver  in  doubt, 
By  listening  and   feeling   the   truth  will 

come  out. 
The   lips,  by-the-bye,  will  have  plenty  to 

do 

In  forming  the  vowels  Italian  and  true  : 
Eschewing   the   English,    uncertain    and 

hideous, 

With  an  O  and  a  U  that  are  simply  am- 
phibious. 

In  flexible  freedom  let  both  work  together, 
And  the  under  one  must  not  be  stiffened 
like  leather. 

Here  endeth  the  substance  of  what  I  re- 
member, 

Indited  this  twenty-sixth  day  of  Novem- 
ber. 


TO  THE  CHOIR   OF  LLANGRYF- 
FYTH. 

(OR   WHOMSOEVER   IT    MAY    CONCERN.) 

WE  nowadays  hear  of  all  sorts  of  progres- 
sion 

In  science  or  politics,  custom  or  view, . 

In  business,  or  fashion.  Perhaps  the 
precession 

Of  equinoxes  has  something  to  do 

With  the  rate  at  which  we  are  going. 
'Tis  true 

That  progress  is  now  and  then  retrogress- 
ion, 

And  the  new  is  the  old  when  the  old  is 
the  new. 

So  they  breakfast  at  one  and  they  lunch 
at  four, 


110 


MISCELLANEOUS   POEMS. 


And  are  sitting  at  dinner  at  half-past  nine, 
And  go  to  bed  when  the  night  is  o'er, 
And  get  up  when  the  day  begins  to  de- 
cline. 

If  they  only  progress  in  the  same  direction, 
A  few  more  years  will  bring  it  all  right ; 
They  will  rise  in  the  morning,  not  dread- 
ing detection, 
And  return  to  the  habit  of  sleeping  at  night. 

Though  the  world  of  fashion   progresses 

so  fleetly, 
The  church   at   Llangryffyth   outdoes  it 

completely ; 
For  at  twelve  o'clock,   nay,   ten  minutes 

past, 

By  a  watch  that  was  certainly  not  too  fast, 
The  choir  exhorted  our  souls  to  awake, 
And  slumber  and  sleepiness  off  to  shake, 
And  then  and  there  from  our  beds  to  rise, 
Exactly  as  if  we  were  rubbing  our  eyes. 
A  little  bit  later  were  more  apropos, 
For  afternoon  drowsiness  lazy  and  slow 
Might  make  an  excuse  for  a  timely  sug- 
gestion. 
Then,  further,  the  sun  was  brought  into 

the  question, 

As  if  he  were  rising  at  that  time  of  day, 
Instead  of  completing  the  half  of  his  way. 
Nor  these  incongruities  only  appeared  : 
We   thought   that   good  Welshmen   the 

Sabbath  revered, 

And  that  '  daily  duties '  aside  were  laid 
That  respect  to  our  Holy  Day  might  be 

paid  ; 

Resting,  not  'running'  the  trodden  ways 
Of  the  cares  and  business  of  other  days. 
But  here  at  Llangryffyth  the  choir  advise, 
With  the  Fourth  Commandment  plain 

under  their  eyes, 
To  *  awake'  (ten  minutes  past  twelve!) 

'with  the  sun/ 


And  our  '  daily  stage  of  duty  run.9 

What  would  the  good  old  Bishop  have 

said 

(Who  sang  the  sweet  verses  upon  his  bed, 
Day  by  day  as  the  morning  broke, 
And  the  busy  week-day  world  awoke) 
Of  the  common  sense  of  those  who  bring 
Such  meaningless  praise  to  the  Heavenly 

King! 

O  choir  of  Llangryffyth,  your  office  high 
Is  to  'teach  ard  admonish/  and  edify, — 
To  wield  an  influence  deep  and  strong, 
The  heart  to  touch  and  the  soul  to  raise, — 
In  God's  own  temple  to  lift  the  song, 
To  bring  a  tribute  of  holy  praise 
Before  the  Lord,  who  entrusts  to  you 
His  gift  of  music,  so  high  and  true  ! 
Be  it  yours  the  preacher's  words  to  meet, 
He  choosing  wisely,  ye  singing  sweet 
Of  the  bright  inheritance  kept  above,1 
Of  the  Living  Water,  the  Fount  of  love.8 
May  He  who  gave  you  voice  and  skill 
So  tune  your  hearts  that  ye  may  indeed 
Your  ministry  of  song  fulfil, 
And    'with  understanding'   His   praises 

lead. 

P.  S. — It  might  be  as  well  if  the  whole 
congregation 

Could  join  in  the  Canticles'  grand  adora- 
tion, 

But  the  few  that  try  at  your  speed,  you 
will  find, 

Are  speedily  distanced  and  left  behind. 

It  might  be  as  well  for  the  Kyrie  to  bear 

Some  slight  resemblance  to  penitent 
prayer ; 


1  The  morning  text — Pet.  i.  5  :    '  An  inheri- 
tance reserved.' 

2  The  evening  text— Rev.  xxii.  17:  « Let  him 
take  the  Water  of  Life.' 


THE   TURNED   LESSON. 


Ill 


Not  tripping  it  off  in  cheerful  repeat 
To  a  pretty  tune  with  a  lively  beat. 
It  might  be  as  well  in  the  hymns,  if  we  could 
Take  breath  where  the  writers  intended 

we  should, 

Not  hunting  and  racing  the  sense  to  death 
By  aiming  at  singing  a  verse  in  a  breath. 


THE  TURNED  LESSON. 

1 1  THOUGHT  I  knew  it !'  she  said, 

*  I  thought  I  had  learnt  it  quite  !' 
But  the  gentle  Teacher  shook  her  head, 

With  a  grave  yet  loving  light 
In  the  eyes  that  fell  on  the  upturned  face, 

As  she  gave  the  book 
With  the  mark  still  set  in  the   self-same 
place. 

'  I  thought  I  knew  it !'  she  said  ; 

And  a  heavy  tear  fell  down, 
As  she  turned  away  with  bending  head, 

Yet  not  for  reproof  or  frown, 
Not  for  the  lesson  to  learn  again, 
Or  the  play-hour  lost ;- — 
It  was  something  else  that  gave  the  pain. 

She  could  not  have  put  it  in  words, 
But  the  Teacher  understood, 

As  God  understands  the  chirp  of  the  birds 
In  the  depth  of  an  autumn  wood. 

And  a  quiet  touch  on  the  reddening  cheek 
Was  quite  enough  ; 

No  need  to  question,  no  need  to  speak. 

Then  the  gentle  voice  was  heard, 

'  Now  I  will  try  you  again  !' 
And  the  lesson  was  mastered,  — every  word  ! 

Was  it  not  worth  the  pain  ? 
Was  it  not  kinder  the  task  to  turn, 

Than  to  let  it  pass, 
As  a  lost,  lost  leaf  that  she  did  not  learn  ? 


Is  it  not  often  so, 

That  we  only  learn  in 
And  the  Master's  testing-time  may  show 

That  it  was  not  quite  'by  heart '  ? 
Then  He  gives,  in  His  wise  and  patient 

grace, 

That  lesson  again, 

With  the  mark  still  set  in  the  self-same 
place. 

Only,  stay  by  His  side 

Till  the  page  is  really  known, 

It  may  be  we  failed  because  we  tried 
To  learn  it  all  alone. 

And  now  that  He  would  not  let  us  lose 
One  lesson  of  love 

(For  He  knows  the  loss) — can  we  refuse^ 

But  oh  !  how  could  we  dream 

That  we  knew  it  all  so  well  ? 
Reading  so  fluently,  as  we  deem, 

What  we  could  not  even  spell ! 
And  oh  !  how  could  we  grieve  once  more 

That  patient  One 
Who  has  turned  so  many  a  task  before  ? 

That  waiting  One,  who  now 

Is  letting  us  try  again  ; 
Watching  us  with  the  patient  brow 

That  bore  the  wreath  of  pain  ; 
Thoroughly  teaching  what  He  would  teach 

Line  upon  line, 
Thoroughly  doing  His  work  in  each. 

Then  let  our  hearts  'be still/ 

Though  our  task  is  turned  to-day. 

Oh,  let  Him  teach  us  what  He  will, 
In  His  own  gracious  way, 

Till,  sitting  only  at  Jesu's  feet, 
As  we  learn  each  line, 

The  hardest  is  found  all  clear  and  sweet ! 


112 


MISCELLANEOUS   POEMS. 


LEANING  OVER  THE    WATER- 
FALL. 

A  young  lady,  aged  20,  fell  over  the  rocks 
at  the  Swallow  Waterfall  in  the  summer  of  1873, 
and  was  lost  to  sight  in  a  moment.  The  body 
was  not  recovered  till  four  hours  afterwards. 

LEANING  over  the  waterfall ! 

Lured  by  the  fairy  sight, 
Heeding  not  the  warning  call, 

Watching  the  foam  and  the  flow, 
Smooth  and  dark,  or  swift  and  bright, 
Here  in  the  shade  and  there  in  the  light ! 

Oh,  who  could  know 
The  coming  sorrow,  the  nearing  woe  ! 

Leaning  over  the  waterfall ! 

Only  a  day  before 
She  had  spoken  of  Jesu's  wondrous  call, 

As  He  trod  the  waves  of  Galilee. 
They  asked,  as  she  gazed  from  the  sun- 
set shore, 
'If  He  walked  that  water,  what  would  you 

do?' 
Then  fell  the  answer,  glad  and  true, 

'  If  He  beckoned  me, 
I  would  go  to  Him.  on  the  pathless  sea/ 

Leaning  over  the  waterfall 
Only  a  moment  before  ! 
And  then  the  slip,  the  helpless  call, 
The  plunge  unheard  in  the  pauseless 

roar 

By  the  startled  watchers  on  the  shore  ; 
And  the  feet  that  stood  by  the  waterfall, 

So  fair  and  free, 

Are  standing  with  Christ  by  the  crystal 
sea. 

Leaning  over  the  waterfall  I 
Have  you  not  often  leant 
(What  should  hinder  ?  or  what  appal  ?) 
Freely,  fearlessly,  over  the  brink, 


Merrily  glancing  adown  the  stream, 

Or  gazing  wrapt  in  a  musical  dream 

At  the  lovely  waters  ?     But   pause   and 

think— 

Who  keptjywr  feet, 
And  suffered  you  not  such  death  to  meet  ? 

Leaning  over  the  waterfall ! 

What  \iyour  feet  had  slipped  ? 
Never  a  moment  of  power  to  call, 
Never  a  hand  in  time  to  save 
From  the  terrible  rush  of  the  ruthless 

wave  ! 
Hearken  !  would  it  be  ill  or  well 

If  thus  you  fell? 
Hearken  !  would  it  be  heaven  or  hell  ? 

Leaning  over  the  waterfall  ! 

Listen,  and  learn,  and  lean  ! 
Listen  to  Him  whose  loving  call 

Soundeth  deep  in  your  heart  to-day  ! 
Learn  of  Jesus,  the  only  way, 
How  to  be  holy,  how  to  be  blest  I 

Lean  on  His  breast, 

And   yours  shall  be  safety  and  joy  and 
rest. 


THE  SEED  OF  SONG. 

THE  seed  of  a  song  was  cast 
On  the  listening  hearts  around, 
And  the  sweetly  winning  sound 

In  a  few  short  minutes  passed. 

But  a  song  of  perfect  praise, 
And  a  song  of  perfect  love 

Was  the  harvest  after  many  days, 

Beneath  the  everlasting  rays 
Of  the  summer-time  above. 

The  seed  of  a  single  word 
Fell  among  the  furrows  deep, 
In  their  silent,  wintry  sleep, 


FINIS. 


And  the  sower  never  an  echo  heard. 
But  the  'Come  ! '  was  not  in  vain, 

For  that  germ  of  Life  and  Love, 
And  the  blessed  Spirit's  quickening  rain 
Made  a  golden  sheaf  of  precious  grain 

For  the  Harvest  Home  above. 

Will  you  not  sow  that  song  ? 

Will  you  not  drop  that  word 

Till  the  coldest  hearts  be  stirred 
From  their  slumber  deep  and  long  ? 
Then  your  harvest  shall  abound 

With  rejoicing  full  and  grand, 
Where   the   heavenly   summer-songs   re- 
sound, 
And  the  fruits  of  faithful  work  are  found, 

In  the  Glorious  Holy  Land. 


FINIS. 

I  HAVE  filled  my  book, 
In  odds  and  ends  of  time, 

With  fancies  and  reveries 
And  careless  scraps  of  rhyme. 

It  is, — and  yet  it  is  not 

A  transcript  of  my  soul  ; 
For  the  passing  gleams  of  light, 

And  the  passing  clouds  that  roll- 
Like  an  unwilled  photograph, 

Have  printed  their  image  clear  ; 
And  the  echo  of  many  a  laugh 

And  of  many  a  sigh  is  here. 

But  words  are  cold,  dead  things, 
And  little  they  tell  of  the  heart, 
8 


Or  the  burning  glow 
Of  the  fount  below, 

Whence  the  glance  and  the  rheek-flusr. 
start. 

I  feel  there  is  more  within 

Than  may  lightly  be  revealed  ; 

What  the  spirit  itself  hath  but  dimly  seen 
To  the  pen  may  well  be  sealed. 

Yes,  I  have  filled  my  book, 
And  another  will  soon  begin  : 

But  no  venturous  guess  may  say 
What  shall  be  traced  within  ! 

Shall  its  songs  be  all  of  joy, 

Or  of  deepest  and  keenest  woe  ? 

I  dare  not  anticipate, 

And  I'm  glad  that  I  do  not  know. 

Shall  its  yet  unwritten  page 
Be  filled  by  my  restless  hand  ? 

Or  shall  I  be  called  away 

To  the  shores  of  the  Silent  Land  ? 

One  thing  I  would  hope  and  pray, 
That  its  record  may  brighter  shine, 

That  an  onward  and  upward  course 
May  be  traced  in  every  line. 

And  that  some  of  its  words  may  cheer 
Some  troubled  and  weary  soul, 

Or  point  as  a  waymark  clear 
To  the  distant  yet  nearing  goal. 

Then  I  shall  not  begrudge  my  thoughts 
Their  robing  of  careless  rhyme  ; 

Or  deem  them  a  useless  waste 
Of  the  priceless  gift  of  Time. 


ENIGMAS   AND    CHARADES. 


ENIGMA  NO.  I. 

AN  army  of  Cyclops,  fair  reader,  are  we, 

Yet  your  servants  especially  ought  we  to 
be; 

The  outposts  of  England,  'mid  ocean's 
roar, 

We  have  stood  since  the  deluge,  and  per- 
haps before. 

From  Parry,  and  Cook,   and  Columbus 

too, 

A  vote  of  thanks  to  ourselves  is  due  ; 
But  to  Solomon's  ships,  when  to  Ophir 

sent, 
Our  aid,  not  asked,  was  of  course  not  lent. 

To  Matilda  of  Flanders'  assistance  we 
came, 

When  she  toiled  to  emblazon  the  Con- 
queror's fame  ; 

And  the  lasting  memorials  we  are  seen 

In  a  summer  clime,  of  a  swarthier  queen. 

The  records  of  ancient  days  we  bear, 
And  Time  to  erase  us  doth  not  dare, 
Yet  the  poorest  girl  in  our  native  land 
Hath  held  us  fast  in  her  weary  hand. 

We  steadily  turn  from  the  tropical  glow 
To  the  dreary  regions  of  ice  and  snow, 
For  we're  firmly  bound  with  a  magic  spell, 
Which  none  may  loose,   or  its  meaning 
tell. 

Woe  to  the  man  who  hath  dared  to  wed 
A  woman  who  us  and  our  use  hath  fled  ! 
114 


If  you  find  us  out,  you  may  claim  to  be 
As  bright  and  as  sharp  as  ever  are  we  ! 


ENIGMA  NO.  II. 

A  WHIMSICAL  set  we  must  often  seem, 

Of  crochets  as  full  as  an  organist's  dream  ; 

If  we  were  abolished,  there'd  straightway  be 

A  piscatorian  jubilee. 

We  are  frequently  clothed  in  a  snowy  array 

As  a  maiden  fair  on  her  bridal  day  ; 

Yet  we're  often  black  as  the  blackest  night, 

E'en  when  we're  lauding  the  soft  moon- 
light. 

The  depths  of  the  ocean  we  faithfully 
show ; 

On  us  hundreds  of  miles  you  may  swiftly 
go; 

We  measure  the  distance  from  place  to 
place, 

And  encircle  the  globe  in  our  wide  em- 
brace. 

Woe,  woe  to  the  soldier  who  dares  to  fly 

From  us  when  the  hour  of  battle  is  nigh ! 

Yet  the  gardener  himself,  in  his  peaceful 
trade, 

For  planting  his  cabbages  needs  our  aid. 

If  a  lady  endeavors  her  age  to  hide, 

We  ruthlessly  publish  it  far  and  wide 

Wherever  she  ventures  to  show  her  head  ; 

Yet  in  us  her  destiny  oft  is  read. 

In  the  heart  of  a  friend  long,  long  forsaken 

A  tew  of  ourselves  may  deep  gladness 
awaken, 


ENIGMA   NO.    V. 


Yet  ours  is  a  many-stringed,  changeful 
lyre, 

For  dismay  and  despair  we  may  often  in- 
spire. 

We're  essential  to  poets,  to  artists,  musi- 
cians, 

To  all  washerwomen,  and  mathemati- 
cians ; 

It  required  a  Euclid  to  tell  what  we  be, 

Yet  us  at  this  moment,  fair  reader,  you  see. 


ENIGMA  NO.  III. 

I  AM  a  native  of  many  a  land, 
Of  Norway's  forests,  of  India's  strand  ; 
And  beautiful  England's  smiles  and  tears 
Have  ripened  and  watered  my  early  years. 
I  am  found  near  the  lowliest  cottage  fire, 
And  I  dwell  in  the  solemn  cathedral  choir, 
The  royal  hall  I  am  sure  to  grace, 
And  always  in  Parliament  find  a  place  ; 
Around  me  oft  gather  the  great  of  the  land, 
In  front  of  the  Queen  I  audaciously  stand  ; 
And  Arthur  himself,  in  days  of  yore, 
Owed  half  his  renown  to  me  or  more. 
As  a  quadruped  oftenest  I  have  been, 
One-legged,  or  three-footed,  or  legless  I'm 

seen. 
The  schoolboy  I  help   through   his   hard 

calculation, 

When  working  a   question   in   multipli- 
cation. 

Since  the  era  of  Moses  (who,  truth  to  speak, 
In  a  manner  unfitting  his  character  meek, 
Most  shamefully  used  me),  until  quite  of 

late, 

I've  always  been  sober,  and   still,  and   se- 
date ; 

But  now  I  am  playing  such  wondrous  va- 
garies 
That  whether  Beelzebub,  witches,  or  fairies, 


Electric  attraction,  or  galvanic  power, 
Have  thus   turned    my   head,  up   to   this 

present  hour, 

The  wisest  and  cleverest  brains  of  the  day, 
Quite  out  of  their  depth,  are  unable  to  say. 
In  olden  days  to  my  care  were  confided 
The  laws  by  which  monarchs  and  subjects 

were  guided  ; 

The  records  of  feats  of  chivalry, 
Or  of  deeds  of  blood  were  preserved  by  me : 
But  now  having  leaves,  though,  alas  !    no 

flower, 
I  bear  what  must  pass  in  a  single  hour. 


ENIGMA  NO.  IV. 

OF  a  useful  whole  I'm  the  most  useful  part ; 
I've  a  good  circulation,  for  I've  a  heart ; 
I  have  two   or  three   garments   or   outer 

clothes  ; 

I  am  closely  allied  to  a  lip  and  nose  ; 
Rags,  and  parchments,  and  jewels  rare; 
Rubbish  and  treasures  within  me  I  bear  ; 
The  tiniest  leaf  I  produce  I  can  nip 
With  a  dexterous  finger  and  thumb  at  my 

tip; 

Though  I'm  often  as  tall  as  a  spire  to  view, 
If  you  travel  far  I  accompany  you  ; 
I  am  the  Indian's  light  canoe  : 
To  puzzle  you  more,  I'm  an  aqueduct  too; 
I'm  part  of  a  garment  of  olden  time, 
And  part  of  a  beast  of  a  southern  clime  ; 
And  finally,  now,  to  crown  the  whole, 
I  am  your  body,  but  not  your  soul  1 


ENIGMA  NO.    V. 

A  TERM  for  autumn  leaves  when  all  their 

lovely  tints  are  fled  ; 
A    mountain  in  Arabia,   lifting   high    its 

rocky  head ; 


n6 


ENIGMAS   AND   CHARADES. 


What  witches  and  astrologers  pretend  they 
truly  are ; 

A  state  from  which  I  greatly  hope  your 
conscience  still  is  far  : 

Those  four  are  all  alike,  you'll  see,  in 
mere  pronunciation, 

But  diverse  in  orthography  and  in  signifi- 
cation. 

Transpose  the  second,  you  will  gain  the 
title  of  a  king, 

And  what  you  would  be  sure  to  do  if  he 
should  enter  in  ; 

Transpose  the  fourth,  you'll  see  at  once 
how  ancient  warriors  treated 

The  cities  of  the  enemy,  with  passion  over- 
heated ; 

Transpose  the  third,  and  lo  !  the  first  will 
straightway  be  revealed. 

Now,  reader,  I  shall  like  to  see  this  mys- 
tery unsealed. 


ENIGMA  NO.    VI. 

SEVENTEEN  hundred  and  sixty  yards, 
A  maiden's  name  and  a  term  at  cards, 
A   halting  leg,  something  stronger   than 

beer, 

A  river  to  many  a  student  dear, 
A  fragrant  tree,  and  a  foreign  fruit, 
A  government  coach  on  a  postal  route, 
Honiton,  Brussels,  or  Valenciennes, 
A  spice  preceding  bishops  and  deans, 
A  sin  of  the  tongue,  and  the  stronger  sex, 
The  state  of  the  sea  when  no  tempests  vex, 
What  you  look  for  three  or  four  times  a 

day, 
What  the  Prince  of  Wales  to  the  crown 

will  lay, 

Three  Scripture  names,  and  a  region  wide, 
What  an  archer  takes  his  shaft  to  guide  : 


With  six  little  letters  all  these  are  framed  ; 
When    each    you  have  duly  and    rightly 

named, 

They  form  what  I  hope  you  will  never  dare 
Against  friend  or  foe  in  your  heart  to  bear. 


ENIGMA  NO  VII. 

IF  you  get  into  me,  I  have  no  sort  of 
doubt, 

But  that  you  will  endeavor  forthwith  to 
get  out  ; 

Behead  me,  and  then  I'm  the  lone  widow's 
weeds  ; 

Behead  me  again,  and  I'm  tiny  round 
seeds  ; 

Repeat  yet  again  the  above  operation, 

And  I  am  renowned  for  my  quick  imita- 
tion, 

My  mischievous  habits,  and  horrid  grim- 
aces, — 

You're  myself,  if  you  practice  unnatural 
graces. 


ENIGMA  NO.    VIII. 

WHAT  was  I  ?     Such  a  clever  friar, 
I  barely  'scaped  the  witches'  pyre ; 
Yet  doth  philosophy  in  me 
One  of  her  bright  admirers  see  ; 
And  forms  of  classic  beauty  grew 
Beneath  my  hand  to  nature  true  ; 
Each  wondrous  magic  lantern  show 
To  me  the  happy  children  owe  ; 
With  Schwartz  contesting,  I  should  men- 
tion 

The  honor  of  his  great  invention. 
What  am  I  ?     What  you  may  despise, 
For  I  am  little  more  than  grease, 
And  yet  I  am  an  annual  prize 
For  matrimonial  love  and  peace. 


ENIGMA   NO.    XL 


117 


In  every  scrape  or  awkward  plight 
I  hope  to  save  me  you'll  be  able. 
I  am  the  ploughboy's  great  delight, 
And  often  grace  his  Sunday  table. 
From  dreams  of  mire  and  sweet  repose 
To  streaky  excellence  I  rose ; 
And,  following  still  the  chimney  sweep, 
I  learned  to  smoke  instead  of  sleep. 


ENIGMA  NO.  IX. 

IN  fiery  caverns  was  my  glowing  birth, 
The  great  laboratories  of  the  earth, 
Thence  issuing,   with  devastating  power, 
Entombing  cities  in  a  single  hour  ; 
The  vineyards  of  bright  Sicily  have  been 
Of  my  o'erwhelming  might  too  oft   the 
dreary  scene. 

Yet  I  encircle  many  a  fair  white  arm, 
Or  holding  ink  and  pens  give  no  alarm  ; 
Though  none  may  stay  my  incandescent 

course 

Till  Neptune  doth  oppose  his  briny  force. 
Mysterious  child  of  subterranean  fires, 
Strange  relics  I  preserve  of  fair  Italia's  sires. 


ENIGMA  NO.  X. 

THE  royal  sun  with  his  orbed  flame 

To  be  myself  I  modestly  claim  ; 

And  yet,  though  strange,  it  is   perfectly 

true, 

I  am  at  this  moment  within  your  shoe. 
Have  you  a  delicate  hand  to  show  ? 
Its  symmetry  partly  to  me  you  owe  ; 
And  I  cannot  think  how  you  can  possibly 

see 

If  deprived  in  another  part  of  me. 
The    ancient  dame,  with  her  spectacled 

nose, 


By  my  strange  contortions  I  often  pose, 

As  I  glide  away  from  her  busy  hand 

To  rejoice  the  juvenile  feline  band. 

I  am  a  being  of  direful  power, 

And  many  I  haste  to  their  last  dread  hour  : 

Yet  the  tiny  child  on  his  feeble  feet 

Is  gladdened  and  charmed  by  my  motions 

fleet. 

I  am  said  to  whistle,  though  not  to  sing ; 
Merriment  oft  to  hundreds  I  bring. 
On  due  inquiry  I  think  you  will  find 
That  twenty  people  in  me  have  dined  ; 
Yet  when  at  dinner  you  take  your  seat, 
I'm  sometimes  the  very  first  thing  you  eat. 
Who  patronize  me  ?     The  college  youth, 
Loving  me  better  than  books,  in  truth  ; 
The  friends  of  science,  the  friends  of  strife, 
The  duellist  seeking  his  fellow's  life, 
Of  sharpers  and  blacklegs  not  a  few, 
Equine  doctors  frequently  too, 
The  conjuror  showing  his  skilful  tricks, 
In  the  list  the  graceful  and  fair  we  mix  ; 
And  last,  not  least,  our  gracious  Queen 
My  patroness  certainly  ever  hath  been. 


ENIGMA  NO.    XL 

I  AM  a  reward,  and  a  punishment  too, 
\Vhat  you  may  give,  and  what  you  may 

do, 

Animal,  mineral,  both  I  may  be, 
Vegetable  oftenest  perhaps  of  the  three. 
Once,  I  know,  as  the  story  goes, 
I  was  the  cause  of  a  bridegroom's  woes  ; 
But  often  since  I  have  dimmed  the  life 
Of  a  wearily-sighing  neglected  wife. 
Never  a  court  without  me  was  seen, 
Never  a  vestry  either,  I  ween, 
Never  a  coach,  and  never  a  train, 
Tho'  sometimes  a  hindrance  the  ktter  to 

gain. 


n8 


ENIGMAS   AND   CHARADES. 


Famous  I  am  for  a  long  dark  way, 
Dismal  as  night  in  the  brightest  day. 
From  the  depths  of  my  bosom  may  rise 

and  float 

Many  a  soft  and  melodious  note  ; 
Why  should  ye  marvel  ?     The  rich  and 

fair, 

The  gay  and  gorgeous  are  often  there. 
Wherever  the  sweetest  of  sounds  goes  forth 
Through  the  radiant  south  or  the  dreary 

north, 

A  tale  of  me  will  be  surely  told, 
Or  false  were  the  words  of  a  prophecy  old. 
A  little  one  longs  to  begin  to  do  good, 
I  sometimes  help  it,  and  always  could  ; 
Yet  the  hardened  man  and  the  cruel  boy 
May  find  in  me  a  savage  joy. 
Give  me,  and  oh,  what  a  monster  you'll 

be; 

Refuse  me,  *  was  e'er  such  a  niggard  as  he ;' 
Hire  me,  then  you  are  rich,  I  conclude  ; 
Mount  me,  and  then  you  may  view  and 

be  viewed  ; 

Open  me,  perhaps  you  are  even  a  thief, 
Perhaps  'twas  by  way  of  consoling  your 

grief; 
Plant  me,    I   see  you  are  neat  in  your 

taste  ; 

Enter  me — nervousness,  flurry,  and  haste 
Won't  at  all  suit,  so  I  pray  you  take  heed, 
Or  counsel  will  into  me  put  you  indeed. 


ENIGMA  NO.   XII. 

LIVES  there  a  poet,  old  or  young, 
Who  has  not  sung  my  praise  ? 

For  ever  silent  be  his  tongue, 
Forgotten  be  his  lays  ! 

I  have  a  father  dark  and  stern, 
A  daughter  bright  and  gay  ; 


I  weep  upon  his  funeral  urn, 
I  die  beneath  her  sway. 

And  yet  that  father  binds  me  fast, 
Hushing  my  low  sweet  voice  ; 
That  daughter  sets  me  free  at  last, 
And  bids  me  still  rejoice. 

Deceitful  I  am  said  to  be, 

A  thing  of  treacherous  smiles, 

And  many  meet  their  end  in  me, 
Wreck'd  by  my  sunny  wiles. 

Yet  health  and  cure  'tis  mine  to  give 

To  many  a  sickly  frame  ; 
An  antelope  of  Africa 

Usurps  my  well-known  name. 

I'm  born  beneath  the  cold,  hard  ground, 

Yet  life  and  joy  I  bring, 
With  song  and  mirth  to  all  around, 

Upon  my  emerald  wing, 

I  help  to  measure  Time's  swift  flight ; 

Tide  has  to  do  with  me  ; 
In  guns  and  traps  behold  my  might : 

O  say  what  can  I  be  ? 


ENIGMA  NO.  XIII. 

THAT  I'm  very  well-known  to  all  metaphy- 
sicians, 'tis  true, 

Whose  brains  I  attempted  to  clear,  being 
one  of  the  crew  ; 

A  secret  of  wonderful  power  in  me  was 
conceal'd, 

Which  firstly  by  love,  but  by  treachery 
next  was  revealed  ; 

I  never  am  mentioned  as  living,  though 
oft  in  the  city, 

When  said  to  be  dead,  much  impatience 
I  rouse,  but  no  pity  ; 


ENIGMA  NO.   XIV. 


IIQ 


To  some  navigation  I  lend  indispensable 

hand, 
Yet  I'm  not  of  the  slightest  utility  saving 

inland. 
I  frequently  act  as  a  guardian,  though  I 

must  own 
My  wards  to  attain  their  majority  never 

were  known  ; 
The   brow   of  the  maiden   to   me   owes 

half  of  its  charms, 
And   yet,  strange  to  say,  I'm  a  part  of 

death-dealing  fire-arms. 
I've  a  slim  coadjutor  who  with  me  my 

secret  possesses, 

My  master  he  is,  for  he  knows  all  my  in- 
most recesses  ; 
My  safety  and  faithfulness  vanish  if  once 

one  can  gain  him, 
Yet  I'm  perfectly  useless  without  him,  so 

prithee  retain  him. 

The  apple  Eve  gathered  was  never  sup- 
posed to  be  me, 
And  yet   if  you  pick  me,   beware  of  the 

powers  that  be  ; 
By  a  figure  of  speech  I'm  said  to  be  silver 

or  golden, 
Though  to  metals  far  baser  I  really  am 

much  more  beholden. 
Of  loved  ones  far  distant  I'm  often  the 

fondly  kept  token, 
Memorial  and  echo  of  harpstrings  which 

death  had  lonor  broken. 


ENIGMA  NO.  XIV. 

1  MAY  be  tall,  and  slender,  and  round, 
Or   perfectly   square,   and  as  flat  as  the 

ground  ; 

No  edifice  ever  without  me  is  raised, 
And  yet,  when  'tis  finished,   I  never  am 

praised. 


The  bears  themselves,  with  a  grim  delight, 
Hail  me  as  an  old  acquaintance  quite  ; 
And  a  smaller  quadruped  lays  its  claim 
With  a  feline  addition  to  bear  my  name. 

Glows  there  a  heart  in  the  English  breast 
Which  beats  for  the  injured  and  long  op- 
pressed ? 

At  the  thought  of  me  it  will  rise  and  swell ; 
For  each  free-souled  patriot  knows  me  well. 

Where  may  you  find  me  ?     In  sunny  Kent, 
Where   the   hop-pickers    sing  when    on 

labor  intent, 

Or  in  realms  of  ice  and  eternal  snow, 
'Neath  the  gorgeous  aurora's  crimson  glow. 

In  celestial  regions  I'm  certainly  found, 
And  wherever  on  earth  there's  an  acre   of 

ground  ; 
Where     his    lordship's    chariot  proudly 

speeds, 
I  ever  am  close  to  the  high  bred  steeds. 

I  have  stood  very  near  to  the  triple  crown, 
Yet  I'm  seen  in  the  back  streets  of  every 

town  ; 

On  the  festal  day  of  a  short-lived  queen 
The  chief  attraction  I've  ever  been. 

Attraction,  said  I  ?     You  little  know 
How  much  to  my  power  of  attraction  you 

owe ! 
All  the  gold,  and   the   pearls,    the  silk, 

sugar,  and  tea, 
That  are  borne  to  your  homes   o'er  the 

pathless  sea. 

I  may  quietly  stand  by  your  drawing-room 

fire, 

Bearing  a  comfort  you  often  desire  ! 
Or  stretch  my  bold  arm  o'er  the  surging 

wave, 
Some  wretch  from  its   billowy  depths   to 

save. 


120 


ENIGMAS  AND   CHARADES. 


ENIGMA  NO.  XV. 

WHERE  will  ye  seek  me?     The  Andes  rise 
Silently  grand  beneath  tropical  skies  ; 
And  far  Himalaya's  crowns  of  snow 
Gleam  o'er  the  burning  plains  below  ; 
I  dwell  with  each,  for  the  mountain  air 
Certainly  suits  me  everywhere. 
Know  ye  the  silent  and  death-like  realm, 
Where  winter  hath  donn'd  his  glassy  helm, 
And  conquering  rules  o'er  land  and  sea  ? 
Beneath  his  throne  is  the  home  for  me. 
Ye   may  seek  in   the  gay  and    brilliant 

throng, 
Where  the  hours  fleet  by  in   dance  and 

song; 

There,  martyr-like,  I'm  sure  to  be, 
Though  to  venture  there  may  be  death  to 

me. 

Yet  I'm  never  afraid  of  catching  cold 
(Like  some  young  ladies)  however  bold. 
'Tis  a  wonder  my  mother  should  let  me  go, 
But  she  is  remarkably  yielding,  I  know  ; 
And  many  who  tried  us  both  can  say, 
She  yields  directly  when  I  give  way. 
My  character's  quite  the  more  solid,  I  state, 
But  she  is  a  person  of  greater  weight. 
Though  never  convicted  of  any  crime 
'Tis  perfectly  true  that  for  months  at  a  time, 
I  am  starved  in  a  dungeon  all   damp  and 

bare, 

With  hardly  the  half  of  a  prisoner's  fare. 
I'm  rather  a  traveller,  I  may  tell, 
And  know  the  Atlantic  routes  quite  well ; 
Sometimes  on  my  own  account  I  go, 
Sometimes  whether  I  will  or  no. 
When  will  ye  seek  me  ?     The  sultry  glow 
Of  a  summer  noon  is  the  time,  I  trow, 
When  the  burning  pavement  and  dusty 

street 
Make  you  long  for  a  rest  for  your  aching 

feet. 


I  have  done  in  my  time  some  wonderful 

things  ; 
Have   been   made   the   dwelling-place  of 

kings  ; 

Have  baffled  the  general's  proud  careering: 
Have  outdone  Stephenson's  engineering. 
I  neverthless  can  condescend 
To  Monsieur  Soyer  my  aid  to  lend  ; 
Or  better  still,  can  bring  mirth  and  joy 
To  the  heart  of  the  sturdy  village  boy. 


ENIGMA  NO.  XVI. 

PRIMEVAL  woods  my  parent's  birth 
Beheld,  where  no  loud  axe  was  heard, 
Where  through  a  solitary  earth 
No  voice  the  leafy  echoes  stirred  ; 
But  I  was  born  in  gloominess  profound, 
In  sable   swaddling  clothes  the  child  of 
light  was  bound. 

Released  at  length  by  human  skill, 
From  long  confinement  forth  I  sped, 
And  in  each  city's  highway  still 
I  linger  far  beneath  your  tread  ; 
Though  there  are  times,   when  grovelling 

thus  no  more, 

Beyond  the  clouds  of  earth,  a  prisoner  still, 
I  soar. 

No  eye  my  subtle  form  may  see, 

Till,  coming  forth  to  light, 

A  slow  consumption  wasteth  me 

In  man's  unpitying  sight. 
Yet  when  from  durance  vile  I  swift  escape, 
All  feel  my  baleful  presence,  though  none 
see  my  shape. 

I  smile  upon  the  giddy  scene 
Of  mirth,  and  revelry,  and  song  ; 
Yet  in  the  sacred  courts  have  been 
Devotion's  handmaid  long ; 


ENIGMA  NO.   XIX. 


121 


With  darkness  waging  constant  strife  and 

sure, 
I   ever  shun   the  day-beams   though  so 

bright  and  pure. 

Though  none  have  ever  heard  my  voice, 
Yet  words  of  gladness  traced  in  me 
Have  bid  full  many  a  heart  rejoice, 
When  England's  flag  waved  high  and 

free. 
And   with   the   song   of  victory    sweetly 

blended 

The  full  deep  hymn  of  praise  that  war's 
dark  storm  was  ended. 


ENIGMA  NO  XVII. 

I  AM  the  child  of  the  brightest  thing 
Which  may  gladden  mortal  eyes, 
Yet  the  silent  sweep  of  my  dusty  wing 
Over  my  mother  may  dimness  fling, 
And  smiling  she  faints  and  dies. 

I  move,  I  dance,  I  fall,  I  fly, 
Yet  anon  I  may  calmly  sleep  ; 

I  mark  the  bright- winged  hours  flit  by, 

Your  ingenuity  perhaps  I  try  ; 
I  am  long,  or  short,  or  deep. 

I  have  been  hailed  as  a  boon  untold, 
Or  dreaded  and  shunned  ere  now  ; 
The  earth  in  my  wide  embrace  I  fold, 
The  mountain  regions  are  my  stronghold, 
Yet  I  steadily  follow  the  plough. 

I  may  rest  a  while  in  the  minster  pile, 
Or  beneath  the  old  oak  tree  ; 

Often  with  trackless  step  I  pass 

O'er  the  whispering  corn  and  the  waving 

grass, 
Or  tread  the  changeful  sea. 

All  the  day  through  I  follow  you, 
Yet  beware  how  you  follow  me  ; 


For  each  child  of  man  I  may  oft  beguile, 
And  cloud  the  light  of  his  sunniest  smile, 
Till  for  ever  away  I  flee. 


ENIGMA  NO.  XVI I L 

YE  have  seen  me  in  the  skies, 
Yet  beneath  the  ground  I  rise  ; 
Sometimes  far  above  your  head, 
Sometimes  deep  below  your  tread. 

Where  the  forest  boughs  entwine, 
Baffling  still  the  gay  sunshine  ; 
Gaze  aloft,  and  you  will  see 
In  myself  their  tracery. 

Laughing  eye  and  dimpling  smile 
May  be  even  me  awhile  ; 
Playful  words,  like  javelins  thrown, 
As  myself  you  often  own. 

Many  a  sunny  stream  ye  trace, 
Rippling  in  my  calm  embrace ; 
Still  I  watch  the  secret  shrine 
Of  the  rich  and  ruddy  wine. 

Nave,  and  choir,  and  aisle,  I  trow, 
All  to  me  their  glories  owe ; 
Even  a  seraph  form  by  me, 
Greater,  fairer  yet  may  be. 

Many  a  loved  one  may  be  laid 
In  my  sadly  solemn  shade ; 
On  your  brow  I  now  may  dwell, 
While  your  lips  my  name  will  tell. 


ENIGMA  NO.  XIX. 

SAY,  know  ye  not  the  pilgrim  band, 
Who  wander  far  and  wide, 

And  greeting  find  in  every  land 
Wherever  they  abide  ? 


122 


ENIGMAS   AND   CHARADES. 


They  meet  full  many  a  friend,  I  wot, 
Who  fain  would  have  them  stay  ; 

To  such  they  cling,  and  leave  them  not, 
Yet  still  go  on  their  way. 

Each  bears  a  staff  and  often  twain, 

And  need  they  many  a  rest ; 
The  oldest  oft  seems  young  again, 

And  perhaps  we  love  them  best. 

They  speak  a  language  passing  sweet, 
With  heart-lore  richly  fraught  ; 

But  oh  !  to  some  they  daily  meet 
Their  eloquence  is  nought. 

Yet  strange  the  laws  their  speech  obeys, 

Who  drink  its  mystic  tone 
May  find  within  each  simplest  phrase 

A  meaning  all  their  own. 

Some  deem  they  tell  of  long  past  years, 
When  they  were  girls  and  boys  ; 

Some  only  hear  of  bygone  tears, 
And  some  of  present  joys. 

Some  hear  them  speak  of  One  who  sent 

That  welcome  pilgrim  band, 
And  bless  the  love  that  freely  lent 

Such  boon  to  every  land. 


ENIGMA  NO.  XX. 

OH,  haughty  Thebes  !     In  shadowy  days 

of  yore, 
Where  history  faintly  blends  with  mytho- 

logic  lore, 

I  was  thy  hidden  terror,  yet,  revealed, 
I  traced  a  stain  of  woe  upon  thy  glittering 

shield. 

Fair  Palestine  !  I  was  put  forth  in  thee 
Amid  a  scene  of  gay  festivity ; 


Yet  brought  by  me  a  sullen  frown,  I  ween, 
Was  on  the  brow  of  my  originator  seen. 

'Tis  mine  to  give  thee  strange  and  need- 
less toil, 

For  Gordian  knots  I  weave  in  many  a 
tangled  coil : 

I  shun  publicity,  for  I  declare, 

That  if  you  speak  my  name,  I  vanish  into 
air. 


ENIGMA  NO  XXL 

THOUGH  constantly  we're  in  the  mire, 
We  shine  and  sparkle  with  our  fire  ; 
Part  of  the  verb  '  to  speak '  we  need, 
And  yet  no  words  from  us  proceed. 
The  annals  of  the  Inquisition 
Reveal  too  well  our  awful  mission  ; 
In  what  they  call  the  '  good  old  days," 
Our  patronesses  won  high  praise, 
li  is  our  business  to  convey 
Men,  beasts,  and  chattels  day  by  day  ; 
You  often  bear  us  near  your  heart, 
And  would  be  loth  from  us  to  part. 
Though  never  weary  with  our  speed, 
Full  often  we  are  tired  indeed  ; 
A  tribe  of  insects,  most  minute, 
Receive  from  us  a  name  to  suit. 
Long  since  we  used  to  condescend 
Our  aid  in  cookery  to  lend. 
We  guide  the  vessel  in  its  course, 
And  multiply  your  puny  force. 


CHARADE  NO.  I. 

THE  veiling  shades  of  night  departed, 
On  Lebanon's  heights  was  a  rosy  glow, 

When  the  serried  ranks  of  the  Lion-hearted 
Prepared  for  my  first  at  the  Moslem  foe. 


CHARADE  NO.   V. 


123 


A  voice  was  heard,  like  a  clarion  proud, 

Forth,  forth  to  battle,  to  glory  go  ! 
To  my  lovely  second  I  solemnly  vowed 

To  crush  the  insolent  Moslem  foe. 
And  forth  they  went,  but  the  voice  was 
stilled, — 

A  stroke  of  my  whole  had  laid  him  low  ; 
By  other  hands  was  the  vow  fulfilled, 

For  they  tamed  the  pride  of  the  Moslem 
foe.   ' 


CHARADE  NO  II. 

MY  first  gleams  bright  'mid  azure  shields, 

On  rich  emblazoned  argent  fields. 

If  you  too  often  use  my  second, 

An  egotist  you  will  be  reckoned. 

My  third,  it  is  a  battle-cry  ; 

And  be  it  yours  in  every  high, 

And  good,  and  noble  end  and  aim, 

As  such  it  is  the  road  to  fame. 

My  belted  whole  you  may  descry 

Illumining  the  southern  sky. 


CHARADE  NO.  III. 

FROM  his  ruby  pavilion  Phcebus  arose, 

And  looked  down  from  his  shining  first, 
And  the  earth  at  his  glance,  from  her  calm 

repose 

Into  beauty  and  gladness  burst, 
But  the  clouds  of  sorrow  he  could   not 

chase, 
Nor  the  gleaming  tears  upon  Katie's  face. 

On  a  merry  ride  to  the  busy  town 

In  my  first  she  too  surely  had  reckoned, 

Disappointed  and  angry  she  flung  herself 

down 
On  my  whole :  but  alas,   in  my  second ; 

So  I  told  her,  my  second  you  never  can  be 


CHARADE  NO.  TV. 

HURRAH  for  merry  England  ! 

For  good  Saint  George  hurrah  I 
For  Richard  of  the  Lion  Heart, 

The  noble  and  the  gay, 
Returns  from  long  captivity, 

And  'tis  a  festal  day. 

With  chivalry  and  minstrelsy 

The  hours  shall  speed  along, 
Where  meet  the  beauteous  and  the  brave, 

The  gentle  and  strong. 
(I  would  my  first  had  gazed  upon 

The  gladly  loyal  throng.) 

The  warriors  of  Palestine, 

Who  led  my  second  well 
When  on  the  ranks  of  Saladin 

Like  avalanche  they  fell, 
Now  in  the  tournament  alone 

A  fancied  foe  repel. 

The  Saxon  serf  may  lay  aside 

His  clumsy  third,  I  trow  ; 
And  leave  it  in  the  silent  field, 

With  cool  and  sweatless  brow  ; 
For  what  has  he  to  do  to-day 

With  weary  spade  and  plough  ? 

But  who  is  he,  the  Saxon  youth, 

With  royal  Saxon  bride, 
Who  Saracen  and  Templar  hath 

Successfully  defied? 
He  is  my  famous  whole,  I  ween, 

The  valiant  and  the  tried. 


While  such  haughty  tempers  so  often  I  see.  So  tell  me  its  name,  I  pray 


CHARADE  NO.    V. 

MY  second  could  never  produce  my  first, 
Though  its  opposite  frequently  may  ; 
Tis  a  thing  that   is   trampled   upon   and 
cursed, 


124 


ENIGMAS   AND   CHARADES. 


In  my  whole  both  my  second  and  first  you 

would  see, 

With  more  of  the  latter  than  pleasant ; 
A  treat  I  consider  this  latter  to  be, 
Though,  like  all  earthly  good,  evanescent. 

Above  my  second  'tis  commonly  borne, 
Though  carefully  kept  below  it ; 
Full  many  a  home  it  has  caused  to  mourn, 
And  the  newspaper  accidents  show  it. 

When  my  second  is  looking  its  dullest  and 

worst, 

And  my  whole  must  be  dreary  indeed, 
Like  a  hard-hearted  tyrant  comes  forth  my 

first, 
With  whom  it  were  vain  to  plead. 


CHARADE  NO.   VI. 

WHERE  the  tall  pine-forest  made 
Deepest,  darkest,  holiest  shade, 
Came  Nesota,  sorrow-laden, 
She,  the  lovely  Indian  maiden. 
Came,  ere  she  had  waited  long, 
Karano,  the  swift,  the  strong ; 
He,  who  bowed  to  nought  beside, 
Bent  to  her  in  lowly  pride  ; 
Bent  until  his  lofty  brow, 
Loftiest  of  the  tribes  around, 
Touched  the  greensward  hallowed  now, 
Where  her  first  had  kissed  the  ground. 

'  Karand  !  arise  and  fly  ! 

Hands  of  power  and  wrath  are  nigh, 

From  thy  side  shall  I  be  driven, 

Like  a  willow  lightning-riven. 

Karano,  ere  thou  depart, 

Lay  this  second  on  thy  heart, 

Token  of  Nesota's  love, 

From  thy  own,  thy  stricken  dove/ 


Trembling  in  his  hand  she  laid 
My  shining  second,  then  farewell ! 
She  is  gone,  through  bush  and  blade, 
Fleetly  as  a  wild  gazelle. 

Karano,  the  swift,  the  strong, 
Baffles  all  pursuers  long, 
Till  the  moon  is  on  the  wane  ; 
Then  a  red  deer  they  have  slain. 
To  the  treacherous  banquet  led, 
When  the  new  moon's  feast  is  spread, 
They  have  mingled  in  his  bowl, 
Secretly,  my  deadly  whole. 
Karano  hath  found  repose 
Where  my  whole  doth  darkly  wave, 
And  the  tall  pine-forests  close 
O'er  Nesota's  quiet  grave. 


CHARADE  NO.    VII. 

MY  whole,  the  poet  of  flood  and  fell, 

Of  valley  and  breezy  hill, 
Has  passed  from  the  scenes  he  loved  so 

well, 

And  none  his  place  may  fill. 
In  his/™/,  with  their  simple  and  child- 
like grace, 
Of  his  second  an  index  all  may  trace. 


CHARADE  NO.    VIII. 

SOON  the  hour  of  dawn  shall  pass, 
Clear  and  loud  the  lark  is  singing  ; 
Swiftly  through  the  waving  grass 
Now  my  bright-eyed  first  is  springing. 

Down  the  still  and  shadowy  dale 
Floats  my  second,  sweetly  telling, 
*  Morning  lifts  her  misty  veil, 
Spectral  darkness  soon  dispelling/ 


CHARADE   NO.    XII. 


125 


Far  remote  from  beaten  way, 
Now  my  dewy  whole  is  bending  ; 
And  where  summer  breezes  play 
Sweetness  to  their  breath  is  lending. 


CHARADE  NO.  IX. 

DISTANT  from  the  noisy  town 
Sits  my  first  and  next  alone, 
In  my  ivy-wreathen  whole, 
Loved  and  blessed  by  many  a  soul. 

More  than  on  my  first,  I  ween, 
With  his  brethren  he  hath  been ; 
But  my  ihird  hath  touched  his  brow, 
And  he  waits  in  silence  now ; 

Hoipng  soon  to  see  the  day 
When  his  second,  far  away, 
May  replace  his  trembling  voice  : 
This  shall  make  his  third  rejoice. 


CHARADE  NO.  X. 

j-/  dwells  in  the  torrid  zone, 
Its  beauty  and  its  boon, 
Yet  this  the  Esquimaux  must  own 
Beneath  an  Arctic  moon. 

He  who  would  do  it  is  untrue, 
Though  all  in  every  land 

To  bear  it  off  in  strife  desire, 
It  always  is  at  hand. 

My  first  and  next  in  days  of  yore 
Went  forth  in  lowly  guise  : 

A  staff  was  theirs,  but  little  store 
Of  what  the  world  would  prize. 

Yet  one,  alas  !  in  later  days, 
With  murder  on  his  brow, 

Revealed  how  far  in  guilty  ways 
A  child  of  earth  may  go. 


My  last  I  think  you'll  quickly  name 

In  half  a  minute  more  ; 
Are  twenty  hundreds  quite  the  same 

As  just  a  hundred  score  ? 

For  if  you  say  what  each  would  be, 
The  name  you  will  have  got  ; 

And  yet,  reversing,  you  will  see 
That  surely  it  is  not. 

My  whole  I  leave  without  debate, 
For  'tis  not  woman's  mission 

To  criticise  the  wise  and  great 
And  play  the  politician. 


CHARADE  NO.  XL 

AWAKE,  ye  sleepers  ! 
My  first  hath  sung  his  loud  reveille, 
And  wakened  through  the  glistening  dale 

The  early  reapers. 

Why  will  ye  linger  ? 
Is  it  no  second  that  ye  hear 
The  morning  hymn,  so  glad  and  clear, 

Of  that  wise  singer  ? 

Come  forth,  nor  tarry  ! 
And  track  the  busy-winged  bee, 
Who  from  my  whole  right  joyously 

Sweet  spoil  doth  carry. 


CHARADE  NO.  XII. 

ARISE,  my  first/    In   peerless   radiance 

beaming, 

A  veil  of  glory  thou  dost  v/eave  for  earth  : 
The   ocean   waves  to  welcome   thee   are 

gleaming, 
For  thou  alone  to  Beauty  givest  birth. 

Shine  forth,  my  second/    Freshly  now  is 

flowing 
The  busy  stream  of  life,  and  labor  too  ; 


126 


ENIGMAS  AND  CHARADES. 


Each  heart  with   ardor,    base   or   noble 

glowing, 
Till  thou  shaft  close,  arresting  all  they  do. 

All  hail,  my  whole  I  thou  comest  with  rich 

pleasure 

An  angel  from  the  land  of  pure  delight, 
The  great  man's  blessing  and   the   poor 

man's  treasure, 
Our  earnest  of  the  day  which  knows  no 

night 


CHARADE  NO    XIII. 

MY  first  had  spread  her  darksome  wing 
O'er  all  the  loveliness  of  spring ; 
My  third  arose  with  mournful  wail — 
The  young  leaves  told  their  first  sad  tale, 
The  old  oak  groaned,  the  flowerets  sighed, 
The  hawthorn  bloom  was  scattered  wide  : 
But  ere  my  gloomy  first  had  passed, 
When  silent  was  my  third  at  last, 
My  whole  awoke  the  moonlight  dell 
To  list  the  sweet  tale  she  could  tell ; 
Then  mingled,  in  strange  harmony, 
Silence  and  sweetest  melody. 
'  Your  second,  why  such  strange  omission  ?' 
'Tis  but  a  tiny  preposition. 


CHARADE  NO.  XIV. 

HEARD  ye  the  long,  low  roar 
Blend  with  the  sea-mew's  cry  ? 
Saw  ye  the  nearing  shore 
Where  the  white  foam-wreaths  lie  ? 
O  wait,   seaman,  wait  while  the  tempest 

shall  last, 

For  my  first  is  a  danger  thou  hast   not 
passed. 


How  shall  the  seaman  wait? 

There  stands  his  white-walled  home, 

From  its  blithely  opened  gate 

Never  more  need  he  roam. 
My  second  he  brings  from  a  distant  realm, 
And  leaves  he  forever  the  weary  helm. 

On  !  for  the  tide  ebbs  fast ! 
On  !  for  the  night  grows  dark, 
But  the  cold  wave-arms  are  cast 
Round  the  seaman's  sinking  bark. 
He  makes  my  whole  with  the  angry  sea, — 
Thine  be  the  gold,  so  my  life  go  free  ! 


CHARADE  NO.  XV. 

MY  whole  is  but  a  species  of  my  third, 
Yet  has  my  third  no  right  to  such  a  name 
Unless  my  first  and  second  form  a  word, 
To  which  he  lays  an  undisputed  claim  ; 
But  if  my  whole  renounce  my  first   and 

second^ 
My  first  indeed  he  may,  but  not  my  whole, 

be  reckoned. 


CHARADE  NO.  XVI. 

THE  all-victorious  Roman 
Hath  raised  his  eagles  high, 

The  Carthaginian  foeman 
Right  proudly  to  defy. 

Forth  marched  in  noble  daring 

The  leader  of  the  day, 
A  mighty  second  bearing 

In  all  the  stern  affray. 

Ye  glorious  ranks,  assemble  I 
'  Push  on,  my  first, '  he  cried, 
1  And  soon  their  whole  shall  tremble, 
And  crushed  shall  be  their  pride/ 


FLOWERS. 


127 


CHARADE  NO.  XVIL 

ENTER  my  first  with  a  studied  grace, 
Conceit  in  his  head,  and  a  smirk  on  his 

face  ; 

Of  fashion  he  deems  himself  quite  the  top, 
And  he's  scented  like  any  perfumer's  shop; 
So  among  the  ladies  he's  surely  reckoned, 
For  the  evening  at  least,  to  be  quite  my 

second, 

But  oh  !  what  a  fall  for  the  brilliant  star  ! 
A  lady's  whisper  is  heard  too  far  : 


'  Of  all  the  flowers  that  ever  were, 
The  only  one  I  to  him  compare 
Is  my  scentless  whole,  with  its  gaudy  stare.' 
Not  quite  rightly  spelt,  but  comparison 


rare. 


CHARADE  NO.  XVIII. 

A  BRIGHT  and  joyous  frame  of  mind, 
With  Cephas  properly  combined, 
Produce,  I'll  boldly  dare  to  say, 
A  statesman  of  the  present  day. 


CHORDS    FOR   CHILDREN. 


SUNDAY  BELLS.1 

O  SWEET  Sabbath  bells  ! 
A  message  of  musical  chiming 
Ye  bring  us  from  God,  and  we  know  what 

you  say  ; 

Now  rising,  now  falling, 
So  tunefully  calling 

His   children   to  seek  Him,  and   praise 
Him  to-day. 

The  day  we  love  best ! 
The  brightest  and  best  of  the  seven, 
The  pearl  of  the  week,  and  the  light  of 

our  way ; 

We  hold  it  a  treasure, 
And  count  it  a  pleasure, 
To  welcome  its  dawning  and  praise  Him 
to-day. 

O  sweet  Sabbath  rest  1 

The  gift  of  our  Father  in  heaven  ; 


'From    'Sacred   Songs  for  Little    Singers.' 
Novello  &  Co. 


A  herald   sent  down  from  the  home  far 

away, 

With  peace  for  the  weary, 
And  joy  for  the  dreary  : 
Then,  oh  !  let  us  thank  Him,  and  praise 
Him  to-day. 

Rejoice  and  be  glad  I 
'Tis  the  day  of  our  Saviour  and  Brother, 
The  Life  that  is  risen,  the  Truth  and  the 
^  Way  ; 

Salvation  He  brought  us 
When  wand'ring  He  sought  us, 
With  blood  He  hath  bought  us  :   then 
praise  Him  to-day  ! 


FLOWERS. 

BUDS  and  bells  !     Sweet  April  pleasures, 

Springing  all  around, 
White  and  gold  and  crimson  treasures, 

From  the  cold,  unlovely  ground  ! 


128 


CHORDS   FOR   CHILDREN. 


He  who  gave  them  grace  and  hue 
Made  the  little  children  too  ! 

When  the  weary  little  flowers 

Close  their  starry  eyes, 
By  the  dark  and  dewy  hours 

Strength  and  freshness  God  supplies. 
He  who  sends  the  gentle  dew 

Cares  for  little  children  too  ! 

Then  He  gives  the  pleasant  weather, 

Sunshine  warm  and  free, 
Making  all  things  glad  together, 

Kind  to  them  and  kind  to  me. 
Lovely  flowers  !     He  loveth  you, 

And  the  little  children  too  ! 

Though  we  cannot  hear  you  singing 

Softly  chiming  lays, 
Surely  God  can  see  you  bringing 

Silent  songs  of  wordless  praise  ! 
Hears  your  anthem,  sweet  and  true, 

Hears  the  little  children  too  1 


EVENING  PRAYER. 

Now  the  light  has  gone  away, 
Saviour,  listen  while  I  pray, 
Asking  Thee  to  watch  and  keep, 
And  to  send  me  quiet  sleep. 

Jesus,  Saviour,  wash  away 

All  that  has  been  wrong  to-day, 

Help  me  every  day  to  be 

Good  and  gentle,  more  like  Thee. 

Let  my  near  and  dear  ones  be 
Always  near  and  dear  to  Thee  ; 
Oh,  bring  me  and  all  I  love 
To  Thy  happy  home  above  ! 


Now  my  evening  praise  I  give  : 
Thou  didst  die  that  I  might  live, 
All  my  blessings  come  from  Thee 
Oh,  how  good  Thou  art  to  me  ! 

Thou,   my  best  and  kindest  Friend, 
Thou  wilt  love  me  to  the  end  ! 
Let  me  love  Thee  more  and  more. 
Always  better  than  before  ! 


STARS. 

THE  golden  glow  is  paling 

Between  the  cloudy  bars  ; 
I'm  watching  in  the  twilight 

To  see  the  little  stars. 
I  wish  that  they  would  sing  to-night 

Their  song  of  long  ago  ; 
If  we  were  only  nearer  them, 

What  might  we  hear  and  know  ! 

Are  they  the  eyes  of  Angels, 

That  always  wake  to  keep 
A  loving  watch  above  us, 

While  we  are  fast  asleep  ? 
Or  are  they  lamps  that  God  has  lit 

From  His  own  glorious  light, 
To  guide  the  little  children's  souls 

Whom  He  will  call  to-night  ? 

We  hardly  see  them  twinkle 

In  any  summer  night, 
But  in  the  winter  evenings 

They  sparkle  clear  and  bright 
Is  this  to  tell  the  little  ones, 

So  hungry,  cold,  and  sad, 
That  there's  a  shining  home  for  them, 

Where  all  is  warm  and  glad  ? 


'When  the  morning  stars  sang  together.' — 
JOB  xxxviii.  7« 


GOD   OF   HEAVEN  !    HEAR   OUR   SINGING  ; 

ONLY   LITTLE  ONES   ARE    WE, 
YET  A  GREAT   PETITION   BRINGING, 

FATHER,    NOW   WE   COME  TO   THEE. 


Page  129. 


THE   MOON. 


I29 


More  beautiful  and  glorious, 

And  never  cold  and  far, 
Is  He  who  always  loves  them, 

The  Bright  and  Morning  Star. 
I  wish  those  little  children  knew 

That  holy,  happy  light  1 
Lord  Jesus,  shine  on  them,  I  pray, 

And  make  them  glad  to-night. 


M. Y  LITTLE  TREE. 

THEY  tell  me  that  my  little  tree 

Is  only  just  my  age,  but  see, — 

Already  ripe  and  rosy  fruit 

Is  peeping  under  every  shoot ! 

How  little  have  I  brought, 

But  withered  leaves  of  foolish  thought ; 

And  angry  words,  like  thorn, 

How  many  have  I  borne  ! 

No  fruit  my  little  tree  can  bring 
Without  the  gentle  rain  of  spring  ; 
Nor  could  it  ever  ripen  one, 
Without  the  glowing  summer  sun  : 
O  Father  !  shed  on  me 
Thy  Holy  Spirit  from  above, 
That  I  may  bring  to  Thee 
The  golden  fruit  of  love. 

Let  sunshine  of  Thy  grace  increase 
The  pleasant  fruit  of  joy  and  peace, 
With  purple  gleam  of  gentleness, 
That  most  of  all  my  home  may  bless  ; 
While  faith  and  goodness  meet 
In  ruby  ripeness  rich  and  sweet, 
Let  these  in  me  be  found, 
And  evermore  abound. 


THY  KINGDOM  COME. 

GOD  of  heaven  !  hear  our  singing  ! 
Only  little  ones  are  we, 


Yet  a  great  petition  bringing, 
Father,  now  we  come  to  Thee. 

Let  Thy  kingdom  come,  we  pray  Thee, 
Let  the  world  in  Thee  find  rest ; 

Let  all  know  Thee,  and  obey  Thee, 
Loving,  praising,  blessing,  blessed  1 

Let  the  sweet  and  joyful  story 

Of  the  Saviour's  wondrous  love, 
Wake  on  earth  a  song  of  glory, 
Like  the  angels'  song  above. 

Father,  send  the  glorious  hour, 

Every  heart  be  Thine  alone  ! 
For  the  kingdom,  and  the  power, 

And  the  glory  are  Thine  own. 


THE  MOON. 

'  The  moon  walking  in  brightness.' — JOB  xxxi. 
26. 

NOT  long  ago  the  moon  was  dark, 

No  light  she  gave  or  gained  ; 
She  did  not  look  upon  the  sun, 

So  all  her  glory  waned. 
Now  through  the  sky  so  broad  and  high, 

In  robe  of  shining  whiteness, 
Among  the  solemn  stars  of  God. 

She  walks  in  brightness. 

Look  up  to  Him  who  is  the  Sun, 

The  true  and  Only  Light, 
And  seek  the  glory  of  His  face, 

His  smile  so  dear  and  bright 
Then  making  gladness  all  around, 

By  gentleness  and  Tightness, 
You,  too,  shall  shine  with  light  divine,  , 

And  walk  in  brightness. 


130 


CHORDS   FOR   CHILDREN. 


JESSIE'S  FRIEND. 

LITTLE  Jessie,  darling  pet, 

Do  you  want  a  Friend  ? 
One  who  never  will  forget, 

Loving  to  the  end  ; 
One  whom  you  can  tell  when  sad 

Everything  that  grieves ; 
One  who  loves  to  make  you  glad, 

One  who  never  leaves. 

Such  a  loving  Friend  is  ours, 

Near  us  all  the  day, 
Helping  us  in  lesson  hours, 

Smiling  on  our  play  ; 
Keeping  us  from  doing  wrong 

Guarding  everywhere, 
Listening  to  each  happy  song 

And  each  little  prayer. 

Jessie,  if  you  only  knew 

What  He  is  to  me, 
Surely  you  would  seek  Him  too, 

You  would  '  come  and  see. ' 
Come  and  you  will  find  it  true, 

Happy  you  will  be  ; 
Jesus  says,  and  says  to  you, 

'  Come,  oh  come  to  Me.' 


THE  BOWER. 

WILL  you  come  out  and  see 
My  pretty  bower  with  me, 
My   sweet  little  house  that  lilac   boughs 

have  made  ; 

With  windows  up  on  high, 
Through  which  I  see  the  sky, 
And  look  up  to  Him  who  made  the  plea- 
sant shade  ? 

The  sunbeams  come  and  go 
So  brightly  to  and  fro, 


Like  angels  of  light,  too  dazzling  to  be 

seen  ! 

They  weave  a  curtain  fair 
About  my  doorway  there, 
And  paint  all  my  walls  with  shining  gold 
and  green. 

I  have  sweet  music  too, 
And  lovely  songs  for  you, 
To  hear  in   my   house   among   the   lilac 

leaves ; 

For  breezes  softly  play, 
And  robins  sing  all  day  : 
I  think  this  is  praise  that  God  on  high  re- 
ceives. 


TRUST. 

SADLY  bend  the  flowers 

In  the  heavy  rain  ; 
After  beating  showers, 

Sunbeams  come  again. 
Little  birds  are  silent 

All  the  dark  night  through  ; 
When  the  morning  dawneth, 

Their  songs  are  sweet  and  new. 

When  a  sudden  sorrow 

Comes  like  cloud  and  night, 
Wait  for  God's  to-morrow  ; 

All  will  then  be  bright 
Only  wait  and  trust  Him 

Just  a  little  while  ; 
After  evening  tear-drops 

Shall  come  the  morning  smile. 


THE  DYING  SISTER. 

DARLING  boy, 

Sister's  joy, 
With  your  loving  smile, 


WHO    WILL   TAKE   CARE   OF   ME? 


Kiss  me  now, 

On  my  brow, 
Stay  with  me  awhile  1 
He  who  has  loved  me, 
He  whom  I  longed  to  see, 

Calls  me  away ; 

I  must  not  stay. 

He  is  near, 
True  and  dear, 
Darling,  do  not  cry  ! 
Jesus  too 
Loveth  you, 

Loves  you  more  than  I. 
Kneel  by  my  pillow  here, 
Tell  Him  the  sorrow,  dear  ; 
He  is  so  kind, 
This  you  will  find. 

Angels  bright, 
Robed  in  light, 
In  that  happy  home, 
Singing  wait 
At  the  gate, 
Till  He  bids  me  come. 
Soon,  brother,  I  shall  see 
Him  who  has  died  for  me  ; 
I  am  so  glad, 
Yet  you  are  sad. 

Hymn  and  prayer 

We  did  share, 
Many  an  evening  past ; 

Jesus  heard 

Every  word, 
This  may  be  the  last. 
Ere  next  the  light  grows  dim, 
I  may  be  there  with  Him. 

Praising  Him  too, 

Waiting  for  you  ! 


THE  ANGELS'  SONG. 

Now  let  us  sing  the  Angels'  song,~ 
That  rang  so  sweet  and  clear, 

When  heavenly  light  and  music  fell 
On  earthly  eye  and  ear, — 

To  Him  we  sing,  our  Saviour  King, 
Who  always  deigns  to  hear  : 

'  Glory  to  God  !  and  peace  on  earth. ' 

He  came  to  tell  the  Father's  love, 
His  goodness,  truth,  and  grace  ; 

To  show  the  brightness  of  His  smile, 
The  glory  of  His  face  ; 

With  His  own  light,  so  full  and  bright, 
The  shades  of  death  to  chase. 

'  Glory  to  God  !  and  peace  on  earth. ' 

He  came  to  bring  the  weary  ones 

True  peace  and  perfect  rest ; 
To  take  away  the  guilt  and  sin 

Which  darkened  and  distressed  ; 
That  great  and  small  might  hear  His  call, 

And  all  in  Him  be  blessed. 

'  Glory  to  God  !  and  peace  on  earth. ' 

He  came  to  bring  a  glorious  gift, 
'  Goodwill  to  men  ; ' — and  why? 

Because  He  loves  us,  Jesus  came 
For  us  to  live  and  die. 

Then,  sweet  and  long  the  Angels'  Song 
Again  we  raise  on  high  : 

'  Glory  to  God !  and  peace  on  earth. ' 


WHO   WILL  TAKE  CARE  OF  ME  t 

WRITTEN  FOR  EMILY  F.    W.    W.    SNEPP. 

WHO  will  take  care  of  me  ?  darling,  you 


say 


Lovingly,  tenderly  watched  as  you  are  ! 
Listen  !  I  give  you  the  answer  to-day, 
ONE  who  is  never  forgetful  or  far  ! 


132 


CHORDS  FOR  CHILDREN. 


He  will  take  care  of  you  !  all  through  the 
day 

Jesus  is  near  you  to  keep  you  from  ill  ; 
Walking  or  resting,  at  lessons  or  play, 

Jesus  is  with  you  and  watching  you  still. 

He  will  take  care  of  you  !  all  through  the 

night, 
Jesus,    the   Shepherd,     His   little   one 

keeps ; 

Darkness  to  Him  is  the  same  as  the  light ; 
He  never  slumbers  and  He  never  sleeps. 

He  will  take  care  of  you  !  all  through  the 

year, 
Crowning  each  day  with  His  kindness 

and  love, 
Sending  you  blessing  and  shielding  from 

fear, 

Leading  you   on  to  the  bright   home 
above. 

He  will  take  care  of  you  !  yes,  to  the  end  ! 

Nothing  can  alter  His  love  to  His  own. 

Darling,    be  glad  that  you  have  such  a 

Friend, 

He  will   not  leave  you   one  moment 
alone ! 


SOMETHING  TO  DO. 

'SOMETHING  to  do,  mamma,  something 
to  do  ! ' 

Who  has  not  heard  the  cry  ? 

Something  to  plan  and  something  to 

try  ! 
Something  to  do  when  the  sky  is  blue, 

And  the  sun  is  clear  and  high  ; 
Something  to  do  on  a  rainy  day, 
Tired  of  lessons  or  tired  of  play  ; 
Something  to  do  in  the  morning  walk, 
Better  than  merely  to  stroll  and  talk. 


For  the  fidgety  feet,  oh,  something  to  do, 
For  the  mischievous  fingers  something  too; 
For  the  busy  thought  in  the  little  brain, 

For  the  longing  love  of  the  little  heart, 
Something  easy,  and  nice,  and  plain  ; 

Something  in  which  they  can  all  take 

part  ; 

Something  better  than  breakable  toys, 
Something  for  girls,    and  something  for 

boys  ! 

I  know,  I  know,  and  I'll  tell  you  too, 
Something  for  all  of  you  now  to  do  ! 


First,  you  must  listen  !     Do  you  know 
Where  the  poor  sick  children  go  ? 
Think  of  hundreds  all  together 
In  the  pleasant  summer  weather, 
Lying  sadly,  day  by  day, 
Having  pain  instead  of  play ; 
No  dear  mother  sitting  near, 

No  papa  to  kiss  good-night  ; 
Brothers,  sisters,  playmates  dear, 

All  away  and  out  of  sight. 
Little  feet  that  cannot  go 
Where  the  pink-tipped  daisies  grow  ; 
Little  eyes  that  never  see 
Bud  or  blossom,  bird  or  tree  ; 
Little  hands  that  folded  lie 
As  the  weary  weeks  go  by. 
What  if  you  could  send  them  flowers, 
Brightening  up  the  dismal  hours  ? 

Then  the  hospitals  for  others, 
For  the  fathers  and  the  mothers ; 
Where  the  weary  sufferers  lie 
While  the  weeks  go  slowly  past, 
Some  with  hope  of  cure  at  last, 
Some  to  suffer  till  they  die. 
Now,  while  you  are  scampering  free, 
In  your  happy  spring-tide  glee, 


SOMETHING  TO   DO. 


133 


They  are  lying  sadly  there, 
Weak  and  sick— oh,  don't  you  care  ? 
Don't  you  want  to  cheer  each  one  ? 
Don't  you  wish  it  could  be  done  ? 

Then  the  poor  old  people  too, 

In  the  dreary  workhouse-room, 
Nothing  all  day  long  to  do, 

Nothing  to  light  up  the  gloom  ! 
Older,  weaker,  every  day, 
All  their  children  gone  away  ; 
Nothing  pleasant,  nothing  bright, 
For  the  dimming,  aching  sight. 
Would  it  not  be  nice  to  send 
Nosegays  by  some  loving  friend  ? 

Then  if  you  could  only  see 

Where  so  many  thousands  live, 
All  in  sin  and  misery, 
Dirt  and  noise  and  poverty, 

What,  oh  what  would  you  not  give, 
Just  some  little  thing  to  do 

That  might  do  a  little  good  ! 
Don't  you  want  to  help  them  too  ? 

I  will  tell  you  how  you  could  ! 
Gather  flowers  for  Jesus'  sake, 
For  a  loving  hand  to  take 
Into  all  those  dreadful  places, 
Bringing  smiles  to  haggard  faces, 
Bringing  tears  to  hardened  eyes ; 
Bringing  back  the  memories 
Of  the  home  so  long  ago 
Left  for  wickedness  and  woe, 
Of  the  time,  so  far  away, 
When  they  learned  to  sing  and  pray. 
Oh,  you  cannot  guess  the  power 
Of  a  little  simple  flower  ! 


And  yet  the  message  they  should  bear, 
Of  God  our  Father's  love  and  care, 


Is  never  really  read  aright 
Without  the  Holy  Spirit's  light ; — 
Without  the  voice  of  Jesus,  ficaTd 
In  His  own  sweet  and  mighty  word. 
And  so  we  never  send  the  flowers 
With  only  messages  of  ours  ; 
But  every  group  of  buds  and  bells 
The  story  of  salvation  tells. 
Let  every  little  nosegay  bring 
Not  only  fragrance  of  the  Spring, 
But  sweeter  fragrance  of  His  Name, 

Who  saves  and  pardons,  soothes  and 

heals, 
The  living  Saviour,  still  the  same, 

Who  every  pain  and  sorrow  feels. 
The  little  texts  are  sweeter  far 
Than  lily-bell  or  primrose  star  ; 
And  He  will  help  you  just  to  choose 
The  very  words  that  He  will  use. 

To  find  them  out  and  make  a  list 
Of  promise-words,  so  strong  and  bright, 
So  full  of  comfort  and  of  light, 

That  all  their  meaning  cant  be  missed ! 
Think  how  every  one  may  be 

God's  own  message  from  above 
To  some  little  girl  or  boy, 
Changing  sadness  into  joy, 
Soothing  some  one's  dreadful  pain, 
Making  some  one  glad  again, 

With  His  comfort  and  His  love  1 
Calling  them  to  Jesus'  feet, 
Showing  them  what  He  has  done  ! 
Darlings,  will  it  not  be  sweet 

If  He  blesses  only  one  ? 
Only  one?     Nay,  ask  Him  still, 

Ask  Him  every  one  to  bless  ! 
He  can  do  it,  and  He  will  ; 

Do  not  let  us  ask  Him  less  ! 


Now  then,  set  to  work  at  once, 
If  you're  not  a  thorough  dunce  ! 


134 


CHORDS  FOR  CHILDREN. 


Cut  the  little  holders  squarely, 

Keep  the  edges  smooth  and  straight : 
Now  the  paint-box  :  artists  bold  ! 

Paint  the  borders  firm  and  fairly 
With  your  prettiest  red  or  gold  ! 

Easy  this,  at  any  rate. 
Now  for  writing — clearest,  neatest, 

(Or  it  may  be  gently  hinted, 

Better  still  if  neatly  printed. ) 
Tracing  words  the  strongest,  sweetest, — 
Words  that  must  and  will  avail, 
Though  the  loveliest  blossoms  fail. 
Then  away,  away,  the  first  fine  day  ! 
Follow  the  breeze  that  is  out  at  play, 
Follow  the  bird  and  follow  the  bee, 
Follow  the  butterfly  flitting  free, 

For  I  think  they  know 
Where  the  sweetest  wildflowers  grow  ; 
Bluebells  in  the  shady  dingle, 
Where  the  violet-odors  mingle  ; 
Where  the  fairy  primrose  lamp 

Seems  to  light  the  hawthorn  shade  ; 
Orchis  in  the  meadow  damp, 

Cowslip  in  the  sunny  glade. 
(But  not  the  pale  anemone, 
For  that  will  fade  so  speedily. ) 
Hedge  and  coppice,  lane  and  field, 
Gather  all  the  store  they  yield  1 
Buttercups  and  daisies  too, 
Though  so  little  prized  by  you, 
Will  be  gold  and  silver  treasure, 
In  their  power  of  giving  pleasure 
To  the  poor  in  city  alleys, 
Far  away  from  hills  and  valleys, 
Who  have  never  seen  them  grow 
Since  their  childhood,  long  ago  ; 
Or  to  children  pale  and  small, 
Who  never  saw  them  grow  at  all ! 
And  don't  forget  the  fair  green  leaves 

That  have  their  own  sweet  tales  to  tell, 
And  waving  grass  that  humbly  weaves 


The  emerald  robe  of  bank  and  dell. 
Is  there  some  one  at  home  who  cannot  go 
To  gather  the  flowers  as  they  grow  ? 
Then  there  is  plenty  for  her  to  do 
In  making  the  nosegays  up  for  you  ; 
Getting  them  ready  to  travel  away, 
In  time  for  the  work  of  the  coming  day. 

But  oh,  how  busy  you  will  be 

When  the  packing  must  be  done  ! 
Oh,  the  bustle  and  the  glee, 

Will  it  not  be  famous  fun  ? 
And  when  the  box  is  gone  away, 

The  pleasure  need  not  all  be  past, 

I  think  it  will  not  be  the  last ! 
Just  set  to  work  another  day  ! 

And  send  some  more 

From  the  beautiful  store 
Which  God  keeps  sending  you  fresh  and 
new, 

And  thank  Him  too 

That  He  has  given  you   '  SOMETHING  TO 
DO  !' 


LOVING    MESSAGES    FOR 
LITTLE  ONES.1 

EVERY  little  flower  that  grows, 
Every  little  grassy  blade, 

Every  little  dewdrop,  shows 
Jesus  cares  for  all  He  made  : 

Jesus  loves,  and  Jesus  knows  ! 
So  you  need  not  be  afraid  ! 


THE 


FAIR  the  blossoms  opening  early  ! 

For  the  dew 
Fell  upon  them,  cool  and  pearly, 

Brightening  every  hue. 


1  Six  floral  cards. 


F.    R.    H,'S  THANKS. 


135 


Like  a  little  thirsty  flower, 

Lift  your  face, 
Seek  the  gentle,  holy  shower 

Of  the  Spirit's  grace. 


GRACE  and  glory  !     They  are  yours 
Through  the  Saviour's  dying  love  ; 

For  His  own  sweet  word  endures 
Longer  than  the  stars  above. 

It  shall  never  pass  away, 

So  trust  His  living  love  to-day. 


HAVE  you  not  a  song  for  Jesus  ? 

All  the  little  buds  and  flowers, 
All  the  merry  birds  and  breezes, 

All  the  sunbeams  and  the  showers, 
Praise  Him  in  their  own  sweet  way  ! 
What  have  you  to  sing  to-day  ? 
Bring  your  happiest  songs,  and  sing 
For  your  Saviour  and  your  King. 


KNOWING  Christ  was  crucified, 
Knowing  that  He  loves  you  now 

Just  as  much  as  when  He  died 

With  the  thorns  upon  His  brow, — 

Stay  and  think  !  oh,  should  not  you, 

Love  this  blessed  Saviour  too  ? 


OPENING  flowers  I  send  to  you 
With  a  message  sweet  and  true. 
They  may  fade,  but  Jesus  lives, — 
Peace  and  grace  and  joy  He  gives. 
Come  to  Him  and  you  will  know 
What  He  waiteth  to  bestow  ! 


F.  R.  H.'s  THANKS, 

FOR  A  PENCIL-CASE  FROM  HER  JIBLE-CLASS. 

O  THOU  who  gatherest  with  loving  arm 
The  tender  lambs,  who  in  each  dark  alarm 
Wilt  fold  them  safely, — listen  to  my  prayer 
Borne  upward  on  the  silent  morning  air  ! 
O  Saviour,  e'en  to  these  extend  Thy  love, 
And  let  them   know  its  sweetness — from 

above 

Pour  down  on  them  Thy  Spirit's  quicken- 
ing showers 

That  they  may  flourish  as  sweet  heaven- 
born  flowers ! 
O  let  Thy  smile  beam  on  them,  let  them  be 
For  ever  gladdened  with  its  radiancy  ! 
May  they  reflect  Thine  image  pure  and 

bright 

As  burnished  silver,  spotless  in  Thy  sight ; 
leansed  by  Thy  blood  from  every  sinful 

stain, 
Let  not  its  free  stream  pour  for  them  in 

vain. 

When  Thou  in  glory  at  the  last  Great  Day 
Shalt  come,  when  earth  and  heaven   shall 

flee  away, 
When,  waking  at  the  archangel's  clarion 

sound 

The  sleeping  ones  arise  and  gather  round 
The  great  tiibunal,  then  let  each  one  here 
At  Thy  right  hand  redeemed  and  saved  ap- 
pear, 

And  in  the  Book  of  Life  let  each  one  be 
Inscribed  as  in  eternal  lines  by  Thee  ! 
0  Saviour,  let  each  name  be  written  there, 
t  one  be  wanted  in  those  pages  gleam- 
ing ! 
Hear,  Shepherd  of  the  lambs,  this  fervent 

prayer, 

For  ever  be   Thy    blessings   o'er    them 
streaming ! 


136 


CHORDS  FOR   CHILDREN. 


F.  R.  ff.'s  THANKS, 

WITH  A  COPY  OF  '  SONGS  OF  GRACE  AND 
GLORY/  TO  CLARA  O. ,  FOR  THIRTY 
BUNCHES  OF  ASTLEY  VIOLETS. 

SWEET  flowers  of  Spring, 
All  fresh  and  fair  to  see, 

You  sent  to  me  ; 
Sweet  holy  'Songs  of  Grace 

And  Glory/  too, 

I  send  to  you. 

Grace  all-sufficient  may 

You  find,  and  know 

On  earth  below, 
Till  God's  own  glory  crown 

Your  faith  and  love, 

In  heaven  above. 


INSCRIPTION   IN  A    COPY  OF 
'  LIFE'S  MORNING. ' 

BY  Him  '  Life's  Morning '  lovelit  be, 
Who  loved,  and  lived  and  died  for  thee  : 
So  shall  thy  Noontide  never  know 
Earth's  burning  thirst,  or  withering  glow  : 
And  thou  shalt  fear  no  gathering  night ; 
At  Eventide  it  shall  be  light. 


LITTLE  NORA. 

FAR  off  upon  a  western  shore, 

Where  wildest  billows  roam, 
Beneath  the  great  grim  rocks  there  stands 

A  tiny  cabin  home  ; 

And  in  it  dwells  a  little  one, 

With  eyes  of  laughing  blue, 
And  lips  as  red  as  any  rose 

With  early  sparkling  dew. 


Her  father  was  a  fisher,  and 

Went  out  with  every  tide, 
While  Nora  sat  and  watched  alone 

By  her  sick  mother's  side. 

It  was  a  weary  thing  to  sit 

For  many  a  long,  long  day, 
Without  a  ramble  on  the  beach, 

Or  e'en  a  thought  of  play  ; 

But  Nora  did  not  think  it  hard, 

She  loved  her  mother  so, 
And  in  a  thousand  ways  she  tried 

Her  earnest  love  to  show. 

One  day  she  left  the  cabin  door, 
And  walked  a  long,  long  way — 

Now  high  upon  the  breezy  cliffs, 
Now  close  to  ocean  spray. 

She  went  to  seek  some  remedy 

To  ease  her  mother's  pain, 
Tho'  little  hope  there  was  that  she 

Could  e'er  be  well  again. 

-  ! 

The  ruby  clouds  have  curtained  o'er 

The  golden  glowing  west, 
Where  'neath  the  white-winged  wavelets 
now 

The  sun  hath  gone  to  rest  ; 

But  little  Nora  comes  not  yet ! 

The  mother's  fears  arise, 
The  evening  breeze  brings  nothing  save 

The  seabird's  mournful  cries. 

The  twilight  hour  is  passing  fast 

In  weariness  and  pain, 
She  waits  and  listens  for  her  child, 

As  yet  she  waits  in  vain. 

Hark,  hark  !  a  bounding  step  is  heard 
Along  the  pebbly  shore, 


LITTLE  NORA. 


137 


And  now  a  tiny  hand  is  laid 
Upon  the  cabin  door  ; 

*  Oh,  mother,  darling  mother,  I 

Have  such  good  news  to  tell ! 
Far  more  than  medicine  I  have  brought 
To  make  you  glad  and  well !' 

More  brightly  gleamed  her  joyous  eye, 

And  rosier  grew  her  cheek, 
While  forth  she  poured  the  happy  words, 

As  fast  as  tongue  could  speak. 

'  I  bought  the  medicine,  mother  dear, 

And  turned  to  come  away, 
When  by  me  stood  a  kind  grave  man, 

And  gently  bade  me  stay  ; 

'  And  then  he  spoke  sweet  words  to  me, 

About  the  Saviour's  love, 
And  of  the  glorious  home  where  all 

His  children  meet  above. 

'  He  told  me  Jesus  loved  us  so 

That  He  came  down  to  die, 
And  suffered  all  instead  of  us  ; — 

And  then  it  made  me  cry  : 

*  He  said  His  blood  was  quite  enough 

To  wash  our  sins  away, 
And  make  us  fit  for  Heaven  at  once 
If  we  should  die  to-day. 

'  So,  mother  dear,  we  shall  not  need 

To  purgatory  go  ; 
If  Jesus  has  forgiven  all, 

That  is  enough,  you  know  !' 

The  rosy  glow  had  rested  on 
The  mother's  whitening  cheek  ; 

'Twas  fading  now,  and  Nora  ceased — 
Then  came  a  long  wild  shriek, — 


'  Oh,  mother,  speak  to  me  once  more, — 

Oh,  is  she  really  dead  ? 
Twas  even  so,  the  hand  was~cdld, 

And  stilled  the  throbbing  head  ; 

Yes,  even  while  those  blessed  words 

Like  angel-music  fell, 
Her  weary  spirit  passed  away, 

But  whither  !  who  may  tell  ? 

Oh,  bitter  were  the  tears  which  fell 

From  little  Nora's  eye, 
And  many  a  day  and  night  had  passed 

Ere  they  again  were  dry. 

But  bitterest  were  they  when  she  thought, 

'  Oh,  I  can  never  tell 
If  with  that  blessed  Saviour  now, 

Sweet  mother,  thou  dost  dwell ! 

'  Ah  !  had  I  only  sooner  known 

What  I  have  heard  to-day, 
I  would  have  told  her  more  of  Him 

Before  she  went  away  ; 

'  For  perhaps  she  did  not  hear  me  then, 

So  she  could  never  know 
The  way  that  Jesus  Christ  has  made 

To  His  bright  home  to  go. 

'  I  love  Him,  yes,  I'm  sure  I  do, 
Then  He  will  take  me  home 

To  be  with  Him  for  evermore, 
Where  sorrow  cannot  come  ; 

'  But  oh,  I  cannot  bear  to  think, 

When  I  His  glory  see, 
And  rest  within  the  Saviour's  arms— 

Where  will  my  mother  be  ?' 

Dear  children,  you  have  learnt  the  way 

To  that  bright  home  above, 
You  have  been  told  of  Jesus  and 

His  deep  and  tender  love ; 


138 


CHORDS  FOR  CHILDREN. 


In  Ireland  there  are  little  ones 
Whose  hearts  are  very  sad, 

Oh,  won't  you  try  to  send  to  them 
Sweet  words  to  make  them  glad  ? 


'COME    OVER    AND    HELP    US,' 

THE  IRISH  CHILD'S  CRY. 

OH,    children   of  England,    beyond   the 

blue  sea, 

Your  poor  little  brothers  and  sisters  are  we; 
Tis  not  much  affection  or  pity  we  find, 
But  we  hear  you  are  loving,  and  gentle 

and  kind  ; 

So  will  you  not  listen  a  minute  or  two, 
While  we  tell  you  a  tale  that  is  all  of  it 

true? 

We  live  in  a  cabin,  dark,  smoky,  and  poor; 
At  night  we  lie  down  on  the  hard  dirty 

floor  ; 
Our  clothes  are  oft  tattered,  and  shoes 

we  have  none  ; 
Our  food  we  must  beg,  as  we  always  have 

done; 
So  cold  and  so  hungry,  and  wretched  are 

we, 
It  would  make  you  quite  sad  if  you  only 

could  see. 

There's  no  one  to  teach  us  poor  children 

to  read  ; 
There's  no  one  to  help  us,  and  no  one  to 

lead; 
There's  no  one  at  all  that  will  tell  us  the 

way 

To  be  happy  or  safe,  or  teach  us  to  pray  : 
To  the  bright  place  above  us  we  all  want 

to  go, 
But  we  cannot, — for  how  to  get  there  we 

don't  know. 


They  tell  us  the  Virgin  will  hear  if  we  call, 
But  sure  in  one  minute  she  can't  hear  us 

all. 
And  the  saints  are  too  busy  in   Heaven, 

we  hear ; 
Then  often  the  priests  make  us  tremble 

with  fear 

At  the  fire  of  purgatory,  which,  as  they  tell, 
Is  almost  as  dreadful  as  going  to  hell. 

Oh,  will  you  not  help  us,  and  send  us  a 

ray 
Of  the  light  of  the  Gospel,  to  brighten  our 

way? 

Oh,  will  you  not  tell  us  the  beautiful  story 
Of  Jesus,  who  came  from  His  dwelling  of 

glory 

To  save  little  children,  and  not  only  you, 
But  even  the  poor  ragged  Irish  ones  too  ? 


THE  ENGLISH  CHILD'S  REPLY. 

WE  have  heard  the  call   from   your   fair 

green  isle  ; 
Our  hearts  have  wept  at  your  saddening 

tale  ; 

And  we  long  to  waken  a  brighter  smile 
By  a  story  of  love  which  shall  never  fail. 

We  should  like  you  to  come  to  our  Bi- 
ble-land, 
And  share  our  comforts  and  blessings 

too  ; 

We  would  take  you  all  with  a  sister's  hand, 
And  try  to  teach  and  to  gladden  you. 

But  you're  so  far  off  that    it  cannot  be, 
And  we  have  no  wings,  or  to  you  we'd 

fly; 

So  we'll  try  to  send  o'er  the  foaming  sea 
Sweet   words  to  brighten    each   heav} 
eye,— 


THE   HAPPIEST   CHRISTMAS   DAY. 


139 


Sweet  words  of  Him,  who  was  once  so 

poor, 
That    He   had  not  where   to  lay   His 

head ; 

But  hath  opened  now  the  gleaming  door 
To  the  palace  of  light,  where  His  feast 
is  spread. 

There   you    may  enter ;    He  calls   each 

one, — 
You're  as  welcome  there  as  the  greatest 

king! 
Come   to   Him   then,  for   He  casts  out 

none, 

And  nothing  at  all   do  you   need   to 
bring. 

He  will  change  your  rags  for  a  robe  of 

white, 

An  angel-harp,  and  a  crown  of  gold  ; 
You  may  dwell  for  aye  in  His  presence 

bright, 

And  the   beaming  smiles  of  His  love 
behold. 

We  will  gladly  save  from  our  little  store 
Our  pennies,  our  farthings,  from  day  to 
day, 

And  only  wish  we  could  do  far  more  ; 
But  for  Erin's  children,  we'll  always  pray. 


THE   DISAPPOINTED    CAROL 
SINGERS. 

OH,    must   we  not  sing   our   Christmas 
hymn, 

And  will  you  not  hear  our  song  ? 
With  joyous  voices,  but  with  weary  limb, 

We  have  roamed  the  whole  day  long  ! 

We  have  thought  of  the  merry  Christmas 

time 
For  many  a  week  before, 


And  have  gleefully  learned  our  Christmas 

rhyme 
To  carol  at  your  door. 

There  are   no  merry  larks  to  wake  you 

now, 

No  blackbirds  in  woody  dell  ; 
The   nightingale    loves  not   the   leafless 

bough, 
The  humming  bee  sleeps  in  his  cell. 

Oh,  winter  is  gloomy  and  dark  enough, 

And  must  it  be  silent  too  ? 
Are  the  chorus  of  winds  and  the  storm- 
song  rough 

The  only  sweet  music  for  you  ? 

But  we  are  the  birds  of  the  winter  day, 
When  all  else  is  dark  and  still ; 

Then,  lady,  send  us  not  all  away, 
And  with  sorrow  our  eager  hearts  fill. 

Oh,    do   not   thus  wave  your  beautiful 
hand, 

And  bid  us  unheard  to  go ; 
For  the  carolling  time  of  our  little  band 

Comes  but  once  a  year,  you  know. 


THE   HAPPIEST   CHRISTMAS 
DAY. 

SYBIL,  my  little  one,  come  away, 
I  have  a  plan  for  Christmas  Day  : 
Put  on  your  hat,  and  trot  with  me, 
A  dear  little  suffering  girl  to  see. 

'Tis   not  very  far,   and  there's  plenty   of 

time, 

For  the  bells  have  not  begun  to  chime  ; 
So  Sybil,  over  the  sparkling  snow 
To  dear  little  Lizzie  let  us  go. 


140 


CHORDS  FOR   CHILDREN. 


Dear  little  Lizzie  is  ill  and  weak, 
Only  just  able  to  smile  and  speak. 
Yesterday  morning  I  stood  by  her  bed  ; 
Now,  shall  I  tell  you  what  she  said  ? 

'  Christmas  is  coming  to-morrow, '  said  I. 

'  I  shall  be  happy  !'  was  Lizzie's  reply  ; 

'  Happy,    so,  happy ! '     I  wish  you  had 

heard 
How  sweetly  and  joyously  rang  that  word. 

'  Dear  little  Lizzie,  lying  in  pain, 
With  never  a  hope  to  be  better  again, 
Lying  so  lonely,  what  will  you  do  ? 
Why  will  the  day  be  so  happy  to  you  ? ' 

Lizzie  looked  up  with  a  smile  as  bright 
As  if  she  were  full  of  some  new  delight ; 
And   the   sweet   little  lips  just  parted  to 

say, 
'  I  shall  think  of  Jesus  all  Christmas  Day  1' 

How  would  you   like   to  take  her  the 

spray 

Of  red-berried  holly  I  gave  you  to-day? 
And  what  if  we  give  her  the  pretty  wreath 

too 
That  Bertha  has  made  with  ivy  and  yew  ? 

The  green  and  the  scarlet  would  brighten 

the  gloom 

Of  dear  little  Lizzie's  shady  room  ; 
And,  Sybil,  I  know  she  would  like  us  to 

sing 
A  Christmas  song  of  the  new-born  King. 

Sybil,  my  little  one,  if  we  do, 
It  will  help  us  to  *  think  of  Jesus '  too  ; 
And  Lizzie  was  right,  for  that  is  the  way 
To  have  the  happiest  Christmas  Day  ! 


COMING  INTO  THE  SHADE. 

OUT  in  the  midsummer  sunshine, 

Out  in  the  golden  light, 
Merrily  helping  the  gardener, 

Ever  so  busy  and  bright, — 
With  tiny  barrow  and  rake  and  hoe, 
Helena  flitted  to  and  fro. 

But  the  midsummer  sun  rose  higher 

Over  the  flowery  spot ; 
'  I  must  rest  a  little  now/  she  said, 

1 1  am  so  tired  and  hot. 
Oh,  let  me  come  to  you,  and  look 
At  the  pictures  in  your  beautiful  book.' 

Why  we  should  leave  the  sunny  lawn 

She  did  not  understand, 
But  cheerily,  trustfully,  Helena  laid 

In  mine,  her  little  brown  hand, 
And  I  led  her  away  to  a  shady  room, 
To  rest  in  the  coolness  and  the  gloom. 

For  she  could  not  have  seen  the  pictures 

Out  in  that  dazzling  light  ; 
The  book  was  there  with  its  colors  fair, 

But  the  sunshine  was  too  bright. 
But  in  the  shade  I  could  let  her  look 
At  the  pictures  in  my  beautiful  book. 

'I  have  never  seen  them  before,'  she  said, 

1 1  am  so  glad  I  came  ! 
And  the  gardener  will  manage  the  flowers, 
I  think, 

Without  me,  just  the  same  ! 
And  I  need  not  trouble  at  all,  you   know, 
About  my  barrow  and  rake  and  hoe/ 

So  page  after  page  was  gently  turned, 

As  I  showed  her  one  by  one, 
And  told  her  what  the  pictures  meant, 

Till  the  beautiful  book  was  done. 
And  then — I  shall  not  soon  forget 
The  loving  kiss  of  my  tiny  pet. 


4  THAT'S  NOT  THE  WAY  AT  SEA.' 


141 


And  now — I  shall  not  soon  forget 

The  lesson  she  had  taught, 
How  from  the  sunshine  into  the  shade 

God's  little  ones  are  brought, 
That  they  may  see  what  He  could  not  show 
Among  the  flowers  in  the  summer  glow. 


BEGIN  AT  ONCE. 

BAND   OF   HOPE   SONG. 

BEGIN  at  once  !     In  the  pleasant  days, 

While  we  are  all  together, 
While  we  can  join  in  prayer  and  praise, 
While  we  can  meet  for  healthful  plays, 

In  the  glow  of  summer  weather. 
Begin  at  once,  with  heart  and  hand, 
And  swell  the  ranks  of  our  happy  band. 

Begin  at  once  !     For  we  do  not  know 
What  may  befall  to-morrow  ! 

Many  a  tempter,  many  a  foe 

Lieth  in  wait  where'er  you  go, 

With  the  snare  that  leads  to  sorrow. 

Begin  at  once  1  nor  doubting  stand, 

But  swell  the  ranks  of  our  happy  band. 

Begin  at  once  !     There  is  much  to  do  ; 

Oh,  do  not  wait  for  others  ! 
Join  us  to-day  ! — be  brave  and  true  ; 
Join  us  to-day  ! — there's  room  for  you, 

And  a  welcome  from  your  brothers. 
Begin  at  once  !  for  the  work  is  grand 
That  God  has  given  to  our  happy  band. 

Begin  at  once  !     In  the  strength  of  God, 

For  that  will  never  fail  you  ! 
Under  His  banner,  bright  and  broad, 
You  shall  be  safe  from  fear  and  fraud, 
And  from  all  that  can  assail  you. 
Begin  at  once,  — with  resolute  stand, 
And  swell  the  ranks  of  our  happy  band. 


<  THA  T'S  NOT  THE  WA  YA  T  SEA.  ' 

Reply  of  Captain  Bourchier  of  the-  training- 
ship  Goliath,  when  his  boys  entreated  him  to 
save  himself  from  the  burning  wreck.  1876. 

HE  stood  upon  the  fiery  deck, 

Our  Captain  kind  and  brave  ! 
He  would  not  leave  the  burning  wreck, 

While  there  was  one  to  save. 
We  wanted  him  to  go  before, 

And  we  would  follow  fast  ; 
We  could  not  bear  to  leave  him  there, 

Beside  the  blazing  mast. 
But  his  voice  rang  out  in  a  cheery  shout, 

And  noble  words  spoke  he,  — 
'  That's  not  the  way  at  sea,  my  boys, 

That's  not  the  way  at  sea  !' 

So  each  one  did  as  he  was  bid, 

And  into  the  boats  we  passed, 
While  closer  came  the  scorching  flame, 

And  our  Captain  was  the  last. 
Yet  once  again  he  dared  his  life, 

One  little  lad  to  save  ; 
Then  we  pulled  to  shore  from  the  blaze 
and  roar, 

With  our  Captain  kind  and  brave. 
In  the  face  of  Death,  with  its  fiery  breath, 

He  had  stood,  —  and  so  would  we  1 
For  that's  the  way  at  sea,  my  boys, 

For  that's  the  way  at  sea  ! 


let  the  noble  words  resound, 

And  echo  far  and  free, 
Wherever  English  hearts  are  found, 

On  English  shore  or  sea. 
The  iron  nerve  of  duty,  joined 

With  golden  vein  of  love, 
Can  dare  to  do,  and  dare  to  wait, 

With  courage  from  above. 
Our  Captain's  shout  among  the  flames 

A  watchword  long  shall  be,  — 


142 


CHORDS   FOR   CHILDREN. 


'  That's  not  the  way  at  sea,  my  boys, 
That's  not  the  way  at  sea  !' 


WELCOME  TO   WINTERDYNE. 

FRANCIE  and  Willie,  welcome  to  you  ! 

Alfred  and  Alice,  welcome  too  ! 

To  an  English  home  and  English  love 

Welcome,  each  little  Irish  dove  ! 

Never  again  we  hope  to  be 

Kept  apart  by  an  angry  sea. 

A  thousand  welcomes,  O  darlings  *nine, 

When  we  see  you  at  Winterdyne  1 

Welcome  all  to  a  warm  new  nest, 
Just  the  place  for  our  doves  to  rest, 
Through  the  oaks  and  beeches  looking 

down 
On   the   winding  valley  and  quaint   old 

town, 

Where  ivy  green  on  the  red  rock  grows, 
And  silvery  Severn  swiftly  flows, 
With  an  extra  sparkle  and  glitter  and  shine 
Under  the  woods  of  Winterdyne. 

On  a  quiet  evening  in  lovely  spring, 

In   the    tall  old    elms    the  nightingales 

sing; 

Under  the  forest  in  twilight  grey, 
I  have  heard  them  more  than  a  mile  away, 
Sweeter  and  louder  and  far  more  clear 
Than  any  thrush  you  ever  did  hear ; 
Perhaps,  when  the  evenings  grow  long  and 

fine, 
They  will  sing  to  you  in  Winterdyne. 

Little  to  sadden,  and  nothing  to  fear ; 
Priest  and  Fenian  never  come  here  ; 
Only  the  sound  of  the  Protestant  bells 
Up  from  the  valley  pleasantly  swells, 


And  a  beautiful  arch,  to  church,  is  made 
Under  the  sycamore  avenue's  shade  ; 
You  pass  where  its  arching  boughs   en- 
twine, 
Out  of  the  gates  of  Winterdyne. 

Welcome  to  merry  old   England  !     And 

yet 
We  know  that  old  Ireland  you  will  not 

forget ; 

Many  a  thought  and  prayer  will  fly 
Over  the  mountains  of  Wales  so  high, 
Over  the  forest  and  over  the  sea, 
To  the  home  which  no  longer  yours  must 

be. 

But  farewells  are  over,  O  darlings  mine, 
Now  it  is  Welcome  to  Winterdyne  ! 


TO  JERICHO  AND  BACK. 

Suggested  by  a  child's  remark,  •  What  a  queer 
place  Jericho  must  be,  if  all  the  persons  and 
things  get  there  that  are  wished  there  !' 

ONCE  on  a  time  I  a  visit  had  paid, 
All  very  pleasant  as  long  as  I  made 
Remarks  on  the  topics  I  fancied  or  guessed 
Any  one  present  was  sure  to  like  best. 
Then  came  the  trial  of  courage  and  skill; — 
(Oh  for  a  talent  for  gilding  the  pill  !) 
Out  of  my  pocket  with  tremulous  thought 
A    card    for    collecting    was    cautiously 
brought. 

What  the  result,  there  is  no  need  to  tell  ; 
Collectors  are  often  received  very  well, 
Sometimes,  alas  !  it  is  quite  the  reverse, 
So  you  take  up  the  work  for  better,  for 

worse  ; 

Still,  I  was  conscious  'twas  better  to  go 
After  revealing  my  errand,  and  so 


TO  JERICHO   AND   BACK. 


143 


Forth  in  the  mist  of  the  evening  I  wan- 
dered, 

And  on  changes  of  tone  and  of  counte- 
nance pondered  ! 

Weary  the  feet,  and  closing  the  day  ; 

Is  there  not  danger  of  losing  the  way  ? 

Strange  are  the  hills  and  the  forests  around; 

Where  shall  a  home-leading  pathway  be 
found  ? 

I  cannot  turn  back,  and  I  cannot  ad- 
vance ; — 

Is  it  a  nightmare,  or  is  it  a  trance  ? 

Shadowy  figures  are  faintly  seen. 

Spectral  and  silent,  dimly  serene  ; 

Persons  and  things  in  range  on  range, 

All  familiar,  yet  all  so  strange  ; 

Shades  of  all  things  that  ever  annoyed, 

All  that  ever  one  wished  to  avoid. 

Strange  though  it  be,  I  need  not  fear  ; 
'Tis  a  wonderful  region,  and  how  I  came 

here 

I  cannot  explain,  but  as  it  is  so, 
Let  me  investigate  whether  or  no, 
And  enumerate  some  of  the  objects  I  find ; 
No  names  shall  be  mentioned,  so  no  one 

will  mind. 

Determining  thus,  I  quickly  began 
Everything  round  me  more  closely  to  scan, 
Hoping  to  make  a  report  of  the  case 
To  friends  who  had  never  discovered  the 

place  ; 

Having  set  out  on  this  singular  track, 
Not  in  a  hurry  was  I  to  get  back. 

Aid  unexpected  was  close  to  my  side, 
Soon  I  perceived  an  invisible  guide, 
Only  a  voice,  clear,  quiet,  and  low, 
Telling  me  all  that  I  wanted  to  know. 


People  of  every  age  and  class 
Under  review  appeared  to  pasjjj_ 
Some  I  recognized  perfectly  well, 
(More  of  these  than  I  choose  to  tell  !) 
Of  others  I  learnt  the  name  and  degree 
From  the  bodiless  guide  who  followed  me. 

There  were  several  sharp  little  girls 
Who  had  made  remarks  on  chignons  and 

curls, 

And  dozens  and  dozens  of  dreadful  boys 
With  special  talents  for  mischief  and  noise ; 
Specimens,  too,  in  greatest  variety, 
Of  every  sort  of  bores  of  society, — 
Boorish  bores,  and  bores  polite, 
People  who  stay  too  late  at  night, 
People  who  make  long  morning  calls, 
People  who  think  of  nothing  but  balls, 
People  who  never  a  move  will  make, 
People  who  never  a  hint  can  take  ; 
Strong-minded  bores,  and   weak-minded 

too, 

Masculine,  feminine,  not  a  few ; 
People  who  borrow  books  to  lose, 
People  who  will  not  wipe  their  shoes ; 
People  who  keep  your  mind  on  the  rack 
Lest  some  pussy  escape  from  the  sack  ; 
Over  stupid,  and  over  clever ; 
People  who  seem  to  talk  for  ever  ; 
People  who  mutter,  and  people  who  drawl, 
People  who  will  not  talk  at  all. 

There  were  ledgers  and  day-books  in  piles 

on  piles, 

And  letters  and  papers  in  files  on  files  ; 
Foolscap  and  parchment,  deeds  and  wills  ; 
And  oh,  such  a  mass  of  unpaid  bills  ! 

There  was  a  wonderful  heap  of  slates, 
Scribbled  all  over  with  sums  and  dates, 
With  names  of  counties  and  names    of 
towns, 


144 


CHORDS   FOR   CHILDREN. 


With  Latin  verbs  and  German  nouns, 
Vulgar  fractions  and  multiplication, 
And  plenty  more  of  the  like  vexation. 
hn^.  finished  was  seldom  seen  ; 
Many  a  half-worked  cushion  and  screen, 
Many  a  drawing  just  half  done, 
Plenty  of  things  in  haste  begun  ; 
Soon  might  Patience  and  Perseverance 
Among  this  collection  effect  a  clearance. 

Now  and  then  throughout  my  stay 
Things  arrived  in  a  wholesale  way ; 
Sometimes  a  house  came  gliding  down, 
Sometimes  a  village  or  even  a  town  ; 
Sometimes  a  borough  my  eyes  would  meet, 
With  candidates,  voters,  and  votes  com- 
plete ; 

*  But, '  whispered  my  guide,  '  the  person 

who  sent  it 
Was  never  the  man  who  could  represent  it. ' 

*  The  person  who  sent  it !  that's  not  at  all 

clear  ; 

Who  has  the  power  to  send  things  here  ? 
What  is  the  power,  and  how  does  one  use 

it? 

Can  any  one  have  it  if  only  they  choose  it  ?' 
'  Every  one  has  it, '  responded  my  guide  ; 
'  Oft  by  yourself  has  the  power  been  tried, 
On  yourself  too,  or  you  would  not  be  here, 
In  this  region  of  shadow  so  dismal  and 

drear. 

Only  a  wish  is  the  power  that  brings 
Hither  this  medley  of  persons  and  things  ; 
Only  a  wish  of  the  opposite  kind 
Loosens  the  spell,  as  you'll  presently  find. 
Some  one  has  wished  you  farther  away, 
That  is  the  reason  you  came  here  to-day ; 
Some  one  may  wish  you  were  speedily  near, 
Then  you  no  longer  may  stay  with  us  here. 


Watch  your  companions,  you'll   see  at  a 

glance 

A  few  are  awake,  but  most  in  a  trance. 
Thousands  are  sent  who  never  know  it, 
Editors  sending  many  a  poet, 
Children  sending  half  their  teachers, 
Listeners  sending  half  their  preachers. 
There  are  some  who  send  their  dearest 

friends 

If  they  happen  to  cross  their  private  ends, 
Or  give  advice  which  is  good  and  true, 
If  it's  not  the  thing  that  they  wish  to  do  ; 
Or  to  be  a  little  too  quick  of  sight. ' 
(If  they  never  came  back,  it  would  serve 

them  right ! ) 

Plenty  of  music  went  on  meanwhile, 

Not  in  the  Handel  Festival  style  ! 

For  hither  most  people  agree  to  dispatch 

New  violins,  with  players  to  match, 

Old  pianos  that  rattle  and  jingle, 

Or  Broadwood  grands  that  make  your  ears 

tingle 

With  polkas  and  waltzes  four  hours  a  day  ; 
All  barrel  organs,  whatever  they  play  ; 
All  German  bands  that  won't  play  in  tune  ; 
People  who  practise  too  late  or  too  soon ; 
Contraltos  that  groan,   and  sopranos  that 

squall, 

Basses  that  bellow,  and  tenors  that  bawl. 
Suddenly,  while  these  melodious  strains 
Filled  up  the  measure  of  puzzles  and  pains, 
Everything  faded  away  from  my  gaze, 
Into  the  deepening  darkness  and  haze  ; 
All  the  unbearable  chaos  of  sound 
Melted  away  into  silence  profound. 

How  I  came  back,  to  this  day  I  don't  know, 
Only  I  found  myself  all  in  a  glow, 
Hastening  into  the  parlor  to  see 
If  I  had  kept  them  all  waiting  for  tea. 


CHRIST   IS  COME   TO   BE  THY   LIGHT 
SHINING  THROUGH   THE   DARKEST   NIGHT: 
HE  WILL  MAKE  THY   PILGRIM   WAY 
SHINE    UNTO    THE   PERFECT   DAY. 
TAKE  THE   MESSAGE!     LET   IT   BE 
FULL  OF   CHRISTMAS  JOY   TO   THEE  ! 


Page  168. 


ETHELBERT'S  'COMING  HOME  IN  THE  DARK.' 


Welcoming  voices  said, — 'We  were  afraid 
You  with  some  neighbor  the  evening  had 

staid  ; 
Your  presence  is  wanted  to  brighten  and 

cheer ; 
Where  have  you  been  ?  we  were  wishing 

you  here ! ' 
'Thanks/  cried  I ;  'you  have  called  me 

away 

From  a  limbo  of  dreary  shades  to-day. 
May  you  never  the  pathway  know 
Leading  away  to  JERICHO  ! 
Or  if  you  are  sent  on  that  dismal  track, 
May   loving  wishes   soon   summon  you 

back!' 


MY  NEST. 

MY    lodging    was    on    the    cold   rough 
ground, 

And  my  pillow  a  rocky  shelf  ; 
And  the  Poet's  Corner  was  full  of  dust. 
And  bits  of  stick  and  dead  leaves,  just 

An  emblem  of  myself ! 

But  lo  !  I  find  that  some  little  birds, 

With  busy  beak  and  wing, 
Have  made  for  me  a  cosy  nest, 
The  very  sort  that  I  like  best, 
Where  I  can  lie  in  pleasant  rest, 

And  twitter,  if  not  sing  ! 

And  the  Poet's  Corner  is  swept  so  clean 

And  made  so  nice  and  neat, 
That  really  I  should  feel  quite  rude, 
If  I  don't,  in  common  gratitude, 
Produce  some  verses  on  the  spot, 
And  pour  them  out  all  fresh  and  hot, 

For  my  little  birds  so  sweet, 
10 


ETHELBERTS  '  COMING  HOME 
IN  THE  DARK: 

DID  1  tell  you  how  we  went  to  tea, 
All  by  ourselves,  with  kind  Mrs  B.  ? 
And  how  we  came  home  in  the  dark  so 

late, 

I  think  it  was  nearly  half-past  eight ! 
We  liked  the  tea,  and  all  the  rest, 
But    coming    home    in    the   dark    was 

best, — 

Best  of  all  !  oh,  it  was  such  fun, 
The  nicest  thing  we  have  ever  done. 
Nurse  took  Willie,  and  Bertha  took  me, — 
Bertha  is  such  a  great  girl,  you  see  ; 
She  sometimes  says  to  us,    'Now,  little 

boys, 

Don't  you  make  such  a  dreadful  noise, 
You  will  wake  little  Sybil  with  all  your 

riot ! ' 

And  then  we  have  to  be — oh,  so  quiet ! 
She  is  nearly  eight,  and  ever  so  tall 
But  Willie  and  I  are  not  very  small  ; 
We  are  six  years  old,  and  our  birthdays 

came 

Both  on  one  day,  the  very  same  ; 
So  people  say  we  are  little  twins, 
And  as  much  alike  as  two  little  pins. 
And  Papa  likes  having  a  pair  of  boys, 
Although  we  make  such  a  dreadful  noise  ; 
'Much   more   amusing/   we   heard  him 

say, 

'  Than  a  couple  of  odd  ones,  any  day  ! ' 
It  was  only  so  very  dark  down  below 
Along  the   lane  where   the   blackberries 

grow, 

For  the  little  stars  were  out  in  the  sky, 
And  we  laughed  to  see  them,  Willie  and  I, 
For   they   twinkled   away,   so  quick  and 

bright, 
I   think   they  were  laughing  at  us  that 

night. 


146 


CHORDS   FOR   CHILDREN. 


A  bright  one  got  up  from  behind  a  tree, 
And  peeped  at  Bertha  and  Willie  and  me  ; 
And  round  the  corner  we  saw  another 
Playing  at  hide-and-seek  with  his  brother, 
Popping  out  from  a  cloud,  and  then 
Running  behind  it  to  hide  again. 

And  then  the  kind  little  Moon  came 

out 
To  take  care  of  the  Stars  as  they  played 

about ; 

She  looked  so  quiet  and  good,  we  thought 
That  perhaps  they  went  to  her  school  to 

be  taught, 
And  to  learn  from  her  how  to  shine  so 

bright  ; 
But   Grandmamma  told  us  we  did   not 

guess  right, 
For  the  Moon  goes  to  school  herself  to 

the  Sun  : 

Do  you  think  she  meant  it  only  in  fun  ? 
Then  all  of  a  sudden  the  Wind  ran  by, 
And  flow  up  to  kiss  the  Stars  in  the  sky  ; 
He  tucked  them  up,  and  said  good-night, 
And  drew  the  curtain  round  them  tight. 
That  was  a  great  dark  cloud,  you  see, 
That  hid  the  Stars  from  Willie  and  me. 
I  think  they  were  sorry  to  go  to  bed, 
For  they  did  not  look  tired  at  all,    we 

said  ; 

And  one  or  two  of  them  tried  to  peep  ; 
But  very  soon  they  were  all  asleep, 
For  the  Wind  kept  singing  their  lullaby, 
And  we  felt  quite  vexed  with  him,  Willie 

and  I. 
I  think  the  Moon  asked  if  she  might 

not  stay 
To  light  us  a  little  bit  more  of  the  way, 


But   he   whistled    quite    loud,    and   we 

thought  he  said, 

1  No,  no,  no  !  you  must  go  to  bed  ! ' 
The  good  little  Moon  did  what  she  was 

bid, 

And  under  the  curtain  her  pretty  face  hid  ; 
And  then  it  got  darker  and  darker  still  ; 
Nurse  said  she   was    setting  behind  the 

hill. 

So  perhaps  she  was  tired,  and  glad  to  go  ; 

It's  a  long  way  across  the  sky,  you  know. 

We  were  not  afraid,    but  we  did  not 

talk 

As  we  came  along  the  avenue  walk  ; 
And  we  did  not  quite  like  looking  back, 
For  the  pretty  green  trees  were  all  quite 

black. 
But  I  whispered  to  Willie   that  God  was 

there, 
And  we  need  not  be  frightened,    for  He 

would  take  care. 

And  then  all  at  once  we  saw  the  light 
In    the    dining-room    window,    ever   so 

bright  ; 
And   up   we   came   through     the     little 

gate,— 

Oh,  it  was  so  nice  to  come  home  so  late  ; 
And  then  we  gave  a  famous  shout, 
For  dear  Mamma  herself  came  out 
To  meet  us,  just  as  we  got  to  the  door  ; 
But  she  had  not  expected  us  home  before. 
And  then  we  took  it  by  turns  to  talk, 
And   tell   them  about   the   tea  and   the 

walk  ; 
And  Papa  did  laugh   so, — we   wondered 

why  ! 
At  what  we  told  him,  Willie  and  I. 


SONGS. 


NATIONAL  HYMN. 

WRITTEN   BY   REQUEST  TO  MUSIC  BY  ROSSINI. 

O  LORD  most  high, 

Who  art  God  and  Father, 
Hear  Thou  our  cry, 

While  Thy  children  gather  ! 
Lord  of  Peace,  oh  hearken, 
Though  war-clouds  darken  ! 
Do  Thou  our  labors  bless, 
And  crown  them  with  success ! 

Bend  from  Thy  glory  now, 
Hear  each  suppliant  vow  ! 
And  on  our  children  pour 
Blessings  evermore. 

Guarded  by  Thee, 

England  shall  be 

Bright  in  Thy  light, 

Strong  in  Thy  might, 
Glorious  and  free  ! 

Hero  and  saint, 

Victors  at  last, 
Bid  us  not  faint, 

But  follow,  follow  fast 

Make  us,  we  pray, 

Loyal  as  they, 

Faithful  and  brave, 

Our  country  to  save  ! 

When  in  the  grim  fight, 
Pierceth  the  dim  light, 
Through  the  cleft  ranks  that  shall  close  no 
more, 


Fearfully  flashing, 
Awfully  crashing, 

Death-furrows  follow  the  cannon's  roar. 
When  wounded  lie, 
Ready  to  die  ; 
When  death  is  braved, 
That  life  may  be  saved  ; 
Teach  us  to  show 

Mercy  with  might, 
Pardon  the  foe, 

Crown  Thou  the  right ! 

Father,  hear  us  ! 
Thou  art  near  us  ! 
Guard  and  cheer  us 

By  Thy  strong  hand  ! 
Then  Art  resplendent, 
Labor  attendant, 

Shall  bless  our  land  1 

Lord,  bless  the  land  we  love, 
God  save  our  Queen  ! 


SCOTLAND'S  WELCOME  TO  H.  R. 
H.  PRINCESS  LOUISE. 

SWEET  Rose  of  the  South  !  contented  to 

rest 
In  the  fair  island  home  which  thy  presence 

has  blessed  : 
From    the    Highlands   resounding,    glad 

welcome  shall  float, 
And  the  Lowlands  re-echo  the   jubilant 

note. 

147 


148 


SONGS. 


Merry  England  has  loved  thee  and  cher- 
ished thee  long, 

Her  blessings  go  with  thee  in  prayer  and 
in  song  ; 

Bonnie  Scotland  has  won  thee,  and  lays 
at  thy  feet 

Love  tender  and  fervent,  love  loyal  ard 
sweet. 

Chorus. — Our  own  bonnie  Scotland  with 

welcome  shall  ring, 
While   greeting  and   homage  we 

loyally  bring  ; 
The  crown  of  our  love  shall  thy 

diadem  be, 
And  the  throne  of  our  hearts  is 

waiting  for  thee. 

Then   come,  like  the  sunrise  that  gilds 

with  a  smile 
The  dark  mountains  and  valleys  of  lonely 

Argyle  ; 
Golden  splendor  shall   fall   on  the  pale 

northern  snow, 
And  with  roselight  of  love  the  purple  shall 

glow. 

Though  the  voice  that  should  bless,  and 

the  hand  that  should  seal, 
Is  'away,'  and  at  rest  in  '  the  land  o'  the 

leal/ 
May  the  God  of  thy  father  look  graciously 

down, 
With  blessings  on  blessings  thy  gladness 

to  crown. 


Chorus. — Our  own  bonnie  Scotland  with 

welcome  shall  ring, 
While  greeting  and  homage  we 
loyally  bring  ; 


The  crown  of  our  love  shall  thy  diadem 

be, 
And  the  throne  of  our  hearts  is  waiting 

for  thee. 


SEVERN  SONG. 

THE  Severn  flow  is  soft  and  fair,  as  slowly 

The  light  grows  dim  ; 
The  sunset  glow  is  soft  and  full,  and  holy 

As  evening  hymn. 
We  float  along  beneath  the  forest  darkling, 
Blending  with  song  the  silence  of  the  hour: 
We  swiftly  glide  where  rapids  bright  and 

sparkling 

Bear  us  beside  the  ruddy  rock  and  tower. 
O  softly,  softly  row  in  measured  time, 
While  nearer,  nearer  swells  the  curfew 

chime. 

Now,  now  again  adown  the  current  shoot- 
ing, 

New  joy  we  hail ; 

While  through  the  forest  thrills  the  fairy 
fluting 

Of  nightingale. 

O  sweet  and  sweeter  that  hidden  lay, 
That  in  the  twilight  dies  away. 
Then  merrily  onward  !     O  merrily  row  ! 
And  smoothly  swift,  O  Severn,  flow  ! 

The  Severn  flow  is  swift  and   strong,  as 
neareth 

The  home  we  love  ; 

The  sunset  glow  has   paled  and  passed, 
and  cleareth 

The  heaven  above. 

The    children's  eyes  will  soon  be  gently 
closing, 

Calm  stars  arise  and  shine  on  earth  instead; 

And  through  the  night,  all  peacefully  re- 
posing, 


THE  DEVONSHIRE  YEOMAN'S   HOME. 


149 


Angels  of  light  shall  guard  each  tiny  bed. 
O   swiftly,  swiftly  row  o'er    darkening 

stream, 
While  nearer,  nearer  shines  the  home 

lamp's  gleam. 
Now,  now  awake  the  song  of  purest  thrill- 
ing, 

Of  home  and  love  ; 
And  call  the  echoes  forth,  with  music  filling 

The  rocks  above. 

Our  song  is  sweetest  as  falls  the  day, 
For  we  are  on  our  homeward  way  : 
Then  merrily  onward  !     O  merrily  row  I 
And  smoothly  swift,  O  Severn,  flow  ! 


FOR  CHARITY. 

THE  sun  is  burning,  O  little  maiden, 
Thou  hast  sweet  water,  is  it  for  me  ? 
I  am  so  thirsty,  so  heavy-laden, 
Give  me  cool  water,  for  charity ! 

Sparkling  and  gleaming, 

The  crystal  streaming 
Seems  but  awaiting  my  only  plea — 
I  am  so  thirsty,  so  heavy-laden, 
Give  me  cool  water,  for  charity  ! 

O  gentle  maiden,  I  thirst  no  longer, 
But  sweeter  waters  thou  hast  for  me  : 
Then   pour  them  freely,    from   fountain 

stronger, 

Sweet  thoughts  of  kindness,  for  charity  ! 
The  world  is  only 
A  pathway  lonely, 

And  hearts  are  waiting  for  sympathy ; 
Then   pour   them   freely  from    fountain 

stronger 
Sweet  thoughts  of  kindness,  for  charity  ! 

O  little  maiden,  'tis  thine  to  brighten, 
Like  sparkling  waters,  life's  lonely  lea  ; 


All  grief  to  soften,  all  joy  to  heighten 
With  love  and  gladness,  for  charity  ! 

Thus  onward  flowing, 

All  good  bestowing, 
A  stream  of  blessing  thy  life  shall  be  ; 
All  grief  to  brighten,  all  joy  to  heighten 
With  love  and  gladness,  for  charity  I 


THE   DEVONSHIRE   YEOMAN'S 
HOME. 

TEN  years  ago  to-day  our  wedding  bells 

were  rung, 
When  all  along   the  winding  lane   wild 

roses  hung; 
And  now  the  roses   cluster  on  our  own 

white  walls 
And  down  the   lane   resound   our   merry 

children's  calls. 
There's  sunshine  on  the  moor  and  on  the 

glittering  sea, 
And  sunshine  in  our  hearts  as  fresh  and 

fair  and  free  ; 
We  would  not  change  our  lot  for  London 

gold, 
For  home,  our  own  sweet  home,  is  sweeter 

now  tenfold. 

No  city  seasons  come  our  pleasant  year  to 
mar ; 

The  hay — the  fruit — the  harvest-time  are 
merrier  far, 

For  pictures  and  for  music  rare  we  need 
but  look 

Around  our  home  and  listen  to  the  grand 
old  Book. 

The  hours  flow  on  from  morning  prayer  to 
evening  praise, 

With  trust  that  lightens,  love  that  bright- 
ens darkest  days  ; 


ISO 


SONGS. 


For  though  ten  years  have  past,  love  grows 

not  old, 
And  home,  our  own  dear  home,  is  dearer 

now  tenfold. 


THE  DA  WN  OF  MAY. 

COME  away,  come  away,  in  the  dawn  of 

May, 

When  the  dew  is  sparkling  bright  ; 
When  the  woods  are  seen 
All  in  golden  green 
In  the  crystal,  crystal  light. 
The  sweet  perfume  of  violet  bloom, 
And  hawthorn  fragrance  rare, 
From  the  cool  mossy  shade, 
Or  the  warm  sunny  glade, 
Is  filling  all  the  air. 

Come  away,  come  away,  in  the  dawn  of 

May, 

When  the  lark  and   the   white   cloud 
meet; 

When  the  tuneful  breeze, 
In  the  old  oak  trees, 
Is  harping,  harping  sweet 
With  joyous  thrill  and  merry  trill, 
The  thrush  and  blackbird  vie, 
As  they  chant  loving  lays, 
And  a  full  song  of  praise 
To  the  Lord  of  earth  and  sky. 

Come  away,  come  away,  in  the  dawn  of 

May, 
In  the  pearly  morning-time, 

When  the  cowslips  spring, 
And  the  blue-bells  ring 
Their  fairy,  fairy  chime. 
With  happy  song,  we  march  along, 
And  carol  on  our  way, 

One  in  heart,  one  in  voice, 


Let  us  all  now  rejoice 
In  the  sunny  dawn  of  May. 


THE  TYROLESE  SPRING  SONG. 

THE  meadows  rejoice  in  their  verdure  so 

bright, 
And  glisten  with  pearl  drops  of  dew, 

The  glaciers  are  gleaming  in  radiant  light, 
The  breezes  are  fitful  and  few. 

From  heaven  coming  down,  like  a  golden- 
haired  child, 

Fair  Spring  o'er  the  earth  has  sparklingly 
smiled, 

With   flower- twined  staff,   he   goes  forth 
o'er  the  wild. 

The  song  of  the  birds  and  the  herdsman's 

glad  lay 

Are  heard  in  the  morning  so  bright  ; 
They  sing  when  the  bells,  at  the  closing 

of  day, 

Awaken  the  stars  of  the  night. 
The  swell  of  the  joyous  and  heart-stirring 

song 
Through  mountain  and  valley  is  pealing 

along, 
In   a   tide  of  rejoicing,  all  glorious  and 

strong. 

Then  a  fount  of  emotion  awakes  in  the 

heart, 

And  the  spirit  is  mightily  stirred, 
The  Tyrolese  longs  from  his  roof  to  depart 

To  wander  and  roam  as  he  will  ; 
When  the  meadows  rejoice  in  their  emer- 
ald glow, 
The  sons  of  the  mountain  forth  joyously 

The  world  in  its  beauty  and  gladness  to 
know. 


GOD   KEEP   THEE. 


MY  MESSENGERS. 

I  SAID  to  the  merry  birds  of  the  woods, 

'  Carry  a  song  to  the  Fair  One  ! ' 
They  twittered  and  trilled,  for  they  quite 

understood, 

And  flew  away  blithely  to  bear  one. 
Then  listen,  if,  tapping  thy  window  sill, 
They   come    with   their  chirping  and 
singing, 

0  listen  !  for  over  forest  and  hill, 

My  message  of  love  they  are  bringing. 

1  said  to  the  lilies,  '  Carry  for  me, 
Carry  a  song  to  the  Sweetest ! ' 

They  nodded  and  said,  '  Our  sister  is  she, 
That  loveliest  lily  thou  greetest 

0  gather  and  send  us, '  they  whispered  to 

me, 

1  And  bid  us  bloom  fragrantly  near  her, 
To  waken  her  smile,  rejoicing  to  be 
Thy  message  of  comfort  to  cheer  her. ' 

1  said  to  the  golden  stars  of  night, 

'  O  carry  my  love  to  the  Dearest ! 
In  darkness  surrounding  with  silver  light 

The  Brightest,  the  ever  Nearest ! ' 
And  watchest  thou   now,  my   own,    my 
love, 

In  weary  and  lonely  sadness  ? 
Look  up  to  the  stars  in  the  heaven  above, 

They  bear  thee  my  message  of  gladness. 


GOD  KEEP  THEE. 

O  DARK  was  the  day  when  I  left  her  alone, 
My  darling,  so  gentle,  so  dear  ! 

O  sad,  yet  O  sweet  was  her  silvery  tone, 
As  she  said,  with  a  glistening  tear  : — 


'Oh,    must  thou  go  forth   in   the  cold 

world  to-day, 

And  leave  me  to  wander  so  far,  far  away  ? 
Oh,  think  of  the  moments  of  joy  that  are 

flown, 
And  remember  the  love  that  is  ever  thine 

own  ! 

Oh,  Father,  I  pray,  protect  him  alway, 
Protect  by  night  and  by  day  ! ' 

I  left  thee,  indeed,  in  the  cold  world  to 

roam, 

Yet  darling,  my  heart  stayed  behind  ! 
In  dreams  I  come  back  to  the  dear  little 

home, 

And  unaltered  is  all  that  I  find. 
And  then,  as  I  listen,  I  hear  a  soft  tone 
Float  up   from   thy  lips  to  the  emerald 

throne, 
'  Oh,  keep  him,  and  bless  him,  by  night 

and  by  day, 
And  guard  him  for  me  while  so  far,  far 

away. 

Oh,  Father,  I  pray,  protect  him  alway, 
Protect  by  night,  and  by  day  ! ' 

The  ocean  of  life  with  its  hurrying  swell 

Has  drifted  me  far  on  its  tide, 
But  only  and  ever  my  true  heart  shall 

dwell 

In  quiet  and  love  at  thy  side. 
And  when  all  the  wandering  and  drifting 

are  o'er, 
My  rest  and  my  haven,  my  golden  bright 

shore, 
My  joy.  and  my  home,  and  my  heart  too, 

shall  be 

For  ever,  beloved,  for  ever  with  thee  ! 
Oh,  Father,  I  pray,  protect  her  alway, 
Protect  by  night  and  by  day  ! 


152 


SONGS. 


ROSE  OF  ROSES. 

OH,  the  treasures  of  the  Spring, 

Crimson,  blue,  and  golden  ! 
Scattered  from  her  radiant  wing, 

Nothing  is  withholden. 
Myriad  blossoms  ope  each  hour, 

Who  shall  tell  the  fairest  ? 
But  I  miss  the  sweetest  flower, 

Rose,  of  roses  rarest. 

Oh,  the  glory  of  the  light, 

Through  the  noontide  beaming  ! 
Oh,  the  stars  of  purple  light, 

Through  the  darkness  gleaming  ! 
But  the  star  of  softest  ray, 

Clearest,  purest,  whitest, 
Shineth  only  far  away, 

Star,  of  stars  the  brightest ! 

Oh,  the  music  everywhere  ! 

Joyous  larks  are  singing, 
Rivulets  are  flowing  fair, 

Merry  chimes  are  ringing. 
But  I  miss  from  day  to  day 

Music  that  is  dearest, 
Even  thine,  though  far  away, 

Heart,  of  hearts  the  nearest 


HAST  THOU  A  THOUGHT? 

WHEN  home  I  came  after  many  a  day 
Of  longing  and  waiting  so  far  away, 
I  sought  the  path  in  the  sunset  glow, 
Where  the  bright  eyes  watched  for  me  long 

ago. 

And  the  fair  night  fell  as  I  whispered  low, 
'  Hast  thou  a  thought   of  the  wanderer 

now?' 

Then  softly  glimmered  a  sudden  light, 
And  I  saw  thee  lean  from  the  casement 
bright, 


And  a  name  floated  forth  from  a  voice  so 

sweet  ! 
No  doubting  of  heart  and  no  lingering  of 

feet! 

For  I  hastened  near,  and  I  whispered  low, 
'  Hast  thou  a  thought  for  the  wanderer 

now  ?' 

Then  silently  nestled  my  own  sweet  bird, 
With  a  joy  too  deep  for  a  song  or  word  ; 
And  1  question  no  more,  for  the  answer  I 

know ! 

So  I  ask  not  aloud,  and  I  ask  not  low, 
Whether  every  night,  whether  every  day, 
Thou  hadst  a  thought  of  thy  love  far  away  ! 


MF  WELCOME. 
I  HAVE  waited  for  thy  coming,  love, 

As  the  song-bird  waits  for  spring, 
Ere  the  echo  of  his  merry  lay 

Makes  the  forest  arches  ring  ; 
But  when  the  spring  is  gone,  love, 

And  summer's  glory  fills, 
How  musical  the  hush,  love, 

Between  the  shadowy  hills. 

I  have  waited  for  thy  coming,  love, 

Yet  bring  to  greet  thee  near, 
Nor  laugh,  nor  words,  nor  carol  gay, 

But  stillness  and  a  tear  ; 
But  if  I  know  thy  heart,  love, 

And  if  thou  readest  mine, 
This  welcome  is  the  best,  love, 

The  truest,  fondest  sign. 


A    WIFE'S  LETTER. 

'  Not  that  I've  anything  special  to  say,  but 
only  that  it  comes  from  me.' —  E.  to  G.,    Jan 
II,  1869. 

MY  OWN  ! 

You  won't  expect  to  hear 
As  you  have  only  just  departed, 
But  I'll  be  better  than  you  fear, 


ONLY  FOR  ONE. 


153 


And  write  as  soon  as  you  have  started. 
It  seems  a  long  and  tiresome  day  ; 

I'm  merely  writing,  as  you  see, 
Not  that  I've  anything  to  say, 

But  only  that  it  comes  from  me. 

I  watched  the  carriage  out  of  sight, 

And  then  came  back  to  do  my  work  ; 
I  could  not  set  the  stitches  right, 

And  so  for  once  the  task  I'll  shirk ; 
I've  put  the  children's  frocks  away 

To  write  a  line  or  two  to  thee, 
Not  that  I've  anything  to  say, 

But  only  that  it  comes  from  me. 

I  hope  the  train  will  not  be  late, 

And  that  it  will  not  freeze  or  rain, 
And  oh  !  if  you  should  have  to  wait, 

Be  sure  you  don't  catch  cold  again. 
I  wish  this  moment  on  the  way 

To  overtake  you  I  could  be  ! 
Not  that  I've  anything  to  say, 

But  only  to  be  nearer  thee. 

'Tis  six-and-twenty  hours  almost 

Before  I  see  you,  as  I've  reckoned  ; 
But  you'll  get  this  by  early  post, 

And  you'll  be  home  before  the  second. 
I'd  like  to  sit  and  write  all  day 

To  Some  One,  if  my  hands  were  free, 
Not  that  I've  anything  to  say, 

But  only  that  it  comes  from  me. 

Though  this  is  such  a  stupid  letter, 

With  love  and  kisses  'tis  impearled  ; 
I  know  that  you  will  like  it  better 

Than  all  the  poems  in  the  world. 
I  trust  that  all  is  safe  and  well, 

Although  I  am  not  there  to  see  ; 
I've  nothing  else,  my  Own  to  tell, 

But  only  that  this  comes  from  me. 


THE   HUSBANDS    REPLY. 

FIVE  minutes,  all  I  have  to  spare, 

But  these,  my  Own,  I  give  to  you  ! 
Your  precious  letter  's  lying  there, 

So  full  and  fond,  so  dear  and  true. 
I  think  you'll  hardly  hope  to  hear, 

As  I  shall  soon  be  home  again, 
But  you'll  get  this  at  seven,  dear, 

I'm  due  at  eight,  and  then — oh  then  ! 

A  hurried  word  or  two  assures 

That  all  is  safe  and  well,  my  dove. 
My  notes  are  not  so  long  as  yours, 

Though  worth  as  much  in  golden  love. 
So  where  I've  been,  and  whom  I've  seen, 

And  how,  and   why,    and   what,    and 

when, 
I'll  tell  you  when  we  meet,  my  queen, 

At  eight  o'clock, — and  then — Q\ithen! 


ONLY  FOR    ONE. 

I  HAVE  a  smile  my  friends  to  greet, 
Hearty  and  pleasant  for  all  I  meet, 

Hidden  from  none  : 

But  I  have  a  smile  that  they  do  not  know, 
Lit  by  a  deeper,  tenderer  glow, 
And  I  keep  it  bright  in  my  heart  below, 

Only  for  one  ! 

I  have  a  song  for  every  ear, 
Leaving  an  echo  to  soothe  and  cheer 

When  it  is  done  : 
But  I  have  a  music  of  truer  beat, 
Not  to  be  poured  at  the  great  world's  feet, 
Richer  and  softer,  and  far  more  sweet, 

Only  for  one ! 

I  have  a  love  for  all  who  care 
Aught  of  its  warmth  to  claim,  or  share, 
Free  as  the  sun  ; 


154 


SONGS. 


But  I  have  a  love  which  I  do  not  hint, 
Gold  that  is  stamped  with  my  soul's   im- 
print, 

A  wealth  of  love,  both  mine  and  mint, 
Only  for  one  ! 


ONE  FOR  THE  OTHER. 

WAS  it '  only  for  one, '  dear,  '  only  for  one, ' 
That  the  smile,  and  the  song,  and  the 

love  should  be  ? 
Then  a  smile  shall  flash,  and  a  song  shall 

flow, 

And  a  deep,  deep  love  shall  thrill  and  glow, 
Only  for  thee,  dear,  only  for  thee  ! 

For  so  shall  it  be, 

One  for  the  other — nevermore  lonely. 
One  for  the  other — ever  and  only. 

The  blossoms  that  now  at  my  feet  you  lay 

Shall  be  golden  fruit  for  you   and  me, 

When  spring  and  summer  have  passed 

away, 

And  softly  falls  the  autumn  day, 
Like  the  close  of  a  holy  melody, 

For  so  shall  it  be, 

One  for  the  other — nevermore   lonely, 
One  for  the  other — ever  and  only. 

Yes  !    one   for   the   other,    blessing   and 

blessed, 
In  the  strength  of  His  gladness,   calm 

and  bright, 

But  with  more  of  blessing  and  love  for  all, 
The  smile  shall  beam,  and  the  song  shall 

fall, 

Touching   the   shadows  around    with 
light,  - 

Because  it  shall  be 

One  for  the  other — nevermore  lonely, 
One  for  the  other — ever  and  only ! 


THINKING    TOGETHER.     OR 
GRAVITATION. 

OF  what  are  you  thinking  now,   dear, 

Now  that  good-night  is  said, 
Now  that  the  children's  eyes  are  shut, 

And  the  stars  shine  out  instead  ; 
Now   that   the   far   church-clock   sounds 
near, 

For  the  world  is  all  so  still, 
And  the  cottage  twinkle  has   long  gone 
out 

On  the  slope  of  the  fir-crowned  hill  ? 

Of  what  are  you  thinking  now,   dear  ? 

Could  a  thought-flash  reach  me  here,   : 
The  message  would  not  surprise  me, 

But  only  strengthen  and  cheer. 
For  love  has  told  it  already, 

That  seer  so  bold  and  true  ! 
I  know  you  are  thinking  of  me,  dear, 

For  I  am  thinking  of  you. 

I  know  you  are  thinking  of  me,   dear, 

For  the  whirl  of  the  day  hath  ceased, 
The  circling  force  is  spent  at  last, 

And  our  spirits  are  released  ; 
And  heart  to  heart  hath  swiftly  turned 

After  the  lonely  strife, 
For  each  is  the  centre  of  each,  dear, 

By  the  law  of  our  truest  life. 

We  have  but  one  other  thought,  dear, 

In  these  quiet,  restful  hours, 
And  that  is  of  Him  whose  love  is  twined 

In  a  threefold  cord  with  ours. 
So  you  are  thinking  of  me,  dear, 

And  I  am  thinking  of  you, 
And  He  is  thinking  of  us  both  : 

Is  it  not  sweet  and  true  ? 


GOLDEN   LAND. 


155 


THERE  IS  MUSIC  BY  THE 
RIVER. 

THERE  is  music  by  the  river, 

And  music  by  the  sea, 
And  music  in  the  waterfall 

That  gusheth  glad  and  free. 
There  is  music  in  the  brooklet 

That  singeth  all  alone, 
There  is  music  in  the  fountain 

With  its  silver-tinkling  tone. 

But  the  music  of  thy  spirit 

Is  sweeter  far  to  me 
Than  the  melody  of  rivers, 

Or  the  anthems  of  the  sea. 
Why  should  I  dwell  in  silence 
When  the  music  is  so  near 
That  may  overflow  my  spirit 
So  full,  so  clear  ! 
Oh  !  let  me  listen  ! 

There  is  music  in  the  forest, 

A  myriad-voiced  song ; 
And  music  on  the  mountains 

As  the  great  winds  rush  along  : 
There  is  music  in  the  gladness 

Of  morning's  merry  light, 
And  in  silence  of  the  noontide, 

And  in  hush  of  starry  night. 

But  a  deeper,  holier  music 
Is  the  music  of  thy  soul, 
And  I  think  the  angels  listen 

As  its  starry  echoes  roll. 
Why  should  I  dwell  in  silence 

When  the  music  that  is  thine 
May  overflow  my  spirit 

And  blend — with  mine  1 
Oh  !  let  me  listen  ! 


'THE    SHINING    LIGHT,    THAT 
SHINETH  MORE  AND  MORE 
UNTO  THE  PERFECT  DAY: 
PROV.  iv.  1 8. 

A  YEAR  ago  the  gold  light 

Sweet  morning  made  for  me  ; 
A  tender  and  untold  light, 

Like  music  on  the  sea. 
Light  and  music  twining 

In  melodious  glory, 
A  rare  and  radiant  shining 

On  my  changing  story. 

To-day  the  golden  sunlight 

Is  full  and  broad  and  strong ; 
The  glory  of  the  One  light 

Must  overflow  in  song ; 
Song  that  floweth  ever, 

Sweeter  every  day. 
Song  whose  echoes  never, 

Never  die  away. 

How  shall  the  light  be  clearer 

That  is  so  bright  to-day  ? 
How  shall  the  hope  be  dearer 

That  pours  such  joyous  ray  ? 
I  am  only  waiting 

For  the  answer  golden, 
What  faith  is  antedating 

Shall  not  be  withholden. 


GOLDEN  LAND. 
?AR  from  home  alone  I  wander 

Over  mountain  and  pathless  wave, 
But  the  fair  land  that  shineth  yonder 

Claimeth  the  love  that  erst  it  gave. 
Golden  Land,  so  far,  so  nearing  ! 

Land  of  those  who  wait  for  me  1 
Ever  brighter  the  vision   cheering, 

Golden  Land,  I  haste  to  thee  ! 


I56 


SONGS. 


On  my  path  a  golden  sunlight 

Softly  falls  where'er  I  roam, 
And  I  know  it  is  the  one  light 

Both  of  exile  and  of  home. 
Golden  Land,  so  far,  so  near, 
On  my  heart  engraven  clear, 
Though  I  wander  from  strand  to  strand, 
Dwells  my  heart  in  that  Golden  Land. 


TWILIGHT  VOICES. 

(IN  ILLNESS.) 

WHAT  are  the  whispering  voices 

That  awake  at  twilight  fall  ? 
Do  they  come  from  the  golden  sunset 

With  their  haunting,  haunting  call  ? 
They  tell  me  of  breezy  spring-times, 

And  of  dreamy  summer  eves, 
And  of  snow-wreaths  merrily  shaken 

From  the  shining  ivy  leaves. 
But  the  far-off  treble  changeth 

To  a  tenor  tone,  and  so 


I  know  that  the  voices  tell  me 
Only  of  long  ago. 

I  hear  you,  I  hear  you, 

In  the  gentle  twilight  fall 
Come  to  me,  come  ! 

With  your  haunting,  haunting  call. 

What  are  the  tuneful  voices 

That  awake  at  early  dawn  ? 
Do  they  come  from  the  orient  portals 

Of  the  palace  of  the  morn  ? 
They  tell  of  a  Golden  City 

With  pearl  and  jasper  bright, 
And  of  shining  forms  that  beckon 

From  the  pure  and  dazzling  light. 
Then  a  rush  of  far-off  harpings 
Blends  with  the  voices  clear, 
And  I  know  that  the  night  is  passing, 
And  I  know  that  the  day  is  near  ! 
I  hear  you,  I  hear  you, 

Sweet  voices  of  the  dawn  ! 
Come  to  me,  come  ! 

In  the  early,  early,  morn. 


HYMNS. 


PRAYER  BEFORE  CHURCH. 

LORD,  I  am  in  Thy  house  of  prayer, 
Oh,  teach  me  rightly  how  to  pray  ; 
Incline  to  me  Thy  gracious  ear, 
And  listen,  Lord,  to  what  I  say. 

Give  me,  O  Lord,  a  praying  heart, 
And  also  an  attentive  ear  ; 
Help  me  to  choose  the  better  part, 
And  teach  me  Thee  to  love  and  fear. 


A  PRAYER. 

LORD,  in  mercy  pardon  me 
All  that  I  this  day  have  done  : 
Sins  of  every  kind  'gainst  Thee, 
O  forgive  them,  through  Thy  Son. 

Make  me,  Jesus,  like  to  Thee, 
Gentle,  holy,  meek,  and  mild, 
My  transgressions  pardon  me, 
O  forgive  a  sinful  child. 

Gracious  Spirit,  listen  Thou, 
Enter  in  my  willing  heart 
Enter  and  possess  it  now, 
Never,  Lord,  from  me  depart. 

O  eternal  Three  in  One, 
Condescend  to  bend  Thine  ear ; 
Help  me  still  towards  heaven  to  run, 
Answer  now  my  humble  prayer. 


THOUGHTS. 

On  entering  church  when  the  sunshine  stream- 
ed through  the  large  window,  so  that  its  outline 
was  completely  lost  in  the  overpowering  bril- 
liance. 

OH,  Thou,  the  Sun  of  Righteousness, 
Whose  bright  rays  every  cloud  dispel, 
E'en  yon  fair  brilliance  is  far  less 
Than  that  wherein  Thou  aye  dost  dwell. 

Oh,  Thou,  my  precious  Saviour,  shine 
In  all  Thy  radiance  on  my  soul ; 
Oh,  let  me  know  what  love  is  Thine, 
Oh,  let  me  reach  this  long-sought  goal. 

To  me,  to  me  Thy  glory  show, 
Shall  ever  be  my  earnest  prayer  ; 
Grant  me  to  leave  the  things  below, 
And  in  that  perfect  bliss  to  share, 

Which  to  Thy  faithful  ones  is  given. 
Oh,  let  Thy  glory  on  me  beam, 
And  let  me  taste  the  joys  of  heaven, 
Before  the  close  of  life's  strange  dream. 

Soon,  Lord,  reveal  Thyself  to  me  ; 
How  long  must  I  thus  sadly  wait  ? 
My  spirit  yearns  Thyself  to  see, 
Oh,  hear  me  in  Thy  mercy  great  1 


'  HE  THA  T  0  VERCOMETH. ' 
REV.  iii.  5. 

c  HE  that  overcometh  in  the  fight 
Shall  be  clothed  in  raiment  white  and  pure; 

157 


158 


HYMNS. 


In  the  ever-blessed  book  of  life 
Shall  his  name  eternally  endure.' 

'  When  my  Father  on  His  dazzling  throne 
Sits,  with  myriad  angels  all  around, 
I'll  confess  His  name,  to  men  unknown  ; 
Heaven  and  earth  shall  listen  to  the  sound.' 

Who,  with  such  a  glorious  end  in  view, 
Would  not  in  the  heavenly  conflict  join  ? 
Strange  that  willing  soldiers  are  so  few, 
Strange   so  many  faint,  who    once  were 
Thine. 

Oh,  it  is  a  service  blest  indeed  ! 
Though  the  strife  be  long,  the  end  is  sure  ; 
And  our  Leader  gives  to  all  who  need 
Grace  that  they  may  to  the  end  endure. 

'Neath  Thy  standard  be  my  place,  O  Lord: 
Grant  me  strength  and  grace,  that  I  ere 

long 

May  obtain  that  rich  and  full  reward. 
Then,  as  conquering  I  sheath  my  sword, 
Thou,  my  Captain,  shall  be  all  my  song. 


A  SONG  OF  WELCOME. 

(FOR    THE   ST.    NICHOLAS   SUNDAY   SCHOOL.) 

OH  God,  with  grateful  hearts  we  come 

Thy  goodness  to  adore, 
While  we  our  Pastor  welcome  home 

To  England's  happy  shore. 

For  Thy  delivering  love  we  praise, 

And  Thy  restoring  hand, — 
Oh  spare  him  yet  for  long,  long  days 

To  this  our  little  band. 

Thy  Spirit's  fulness  on  him  rest, 

Thy  love  his  sunshine  be  ! 
And  may  he  still,  while  doubly  blest, 

A  blessing  be  from  Thee. 


When  the  Chief  Shepherd  shall  appear 

May  he  receive,  we  pray, 
A  crown  of  glory  bright  and  clear 

That  fadeth  not  away. 


'  The  Lord  is  gracious  and  full  of  compassion, 
slow  to  anger  and  of  great  mercy.' — Ps.  cxlv.  8. 

The  Lord  is  gracious — full  of  grace 

To  those  who  seek   through  Christ   His 

face  ; 

O  come  then,  sinner,  taste  and  see 
The  fulness  of  His  love  for  thee. 

Full  of  compassion  is  His  heart, 
Each  weary  sigh,  each  rankling  smart 
Is  known  to  Him  whom  we  adore, 
The  Saviour  who  our  sorrows  bore. 

To  anger  slow  I  though  every  hour 
Provoking  his  destroying  power  ; 
How  strange  such  words  of  peace  to  give, 
Through  Him  who  died  that  we  might  live. 

Great  mercy  !  Yet  another  seal 
To  all  His  gracious  words  reveal ; 
Great  mercy  for  the  greatly  stained, 
For  those  who  mercy  long  disdained. 

We  little  know  God's  thoughts  to  man, 
They  are  too  great  for  us  to  scan-: 
Thou  art  too  high  and  we  too  low, 
The  wonders  of  Thy  love  to  know. 

But  crown  Thy  mercies,   Lord,  and  send 
Thy  Spirit  as  our  Teacher-Friend  ; 
That  we  may  see,  and  feel,  and  praise 
The  grace  and  love  of  all  Thy  ways  ! 


* The  Spirit  proceeding  from  the  Father  and 
the  Son.' 

O  SPIRIT  of  our  Triune  Lord, 

Known  by  Thy  might,  unseen  but  felt, 


HYMN    FOR   IRELAND. 


159 


Be  Thy  sweet  influence  now  outpoured, 
With  power  to  rouse,  with  love  to  melt. 

O  Holy  One,  who  dost  proceed 
Both  from  the  Father  and  the  Son, 

Reveal  to  us  our  sin  and  need, 

And  what  our  Saviour  Christ  hath  done. 

O  Thou,  whose  love,  exceeding  great, 
Sent  Thine  own  Son  to  bleed  and  die, 

For  Thy  good  Spirit's  power  we  wait, 
Thy  glorious  grace  to  testify. 


NEW  FEAR  HYMN. 

JESUS,  blessed  Saviour, 
Help  us  now  to  raise 
Songs  of  glad  thanksgiving, 

Songs  of  holy  praise. 
O  how  kind  and  gracious 
Thou  hast  always  been  ! 
O  how  many  blessings 
Every  day  has  seen  ! 
Jesus,  blessed  Saviour, 

Now  our  praises  hear, 

For  Thy  grace  and  favor 

Crowning  all  the  year. 

Jesus,  holy  Saviour, 

Only  Thou  canst  tell 
How  we  often  stumbled, 

How  we  often  fell  ! 
All  our  sins  (so  many  !) 

Saviour,  Thou  dost  know  ; 
In  Thy  blood  most  precious, 
Wash  us  white  as  snow. 
Jesus,  blessed  Saviour, 
Keep  us  in  Thy  fear, 
Let  Thy  grace  and  favor 
Pardon  all  the  year. 


Jesus,  loving  Saviour, 

Only  Thou  dost  know 
All  that  may  befall  us 

As  we  onward  go. 
So  we  humbly  pray  Thee, 

Take  us  by  the  hand, 
Lead  us  ever  upward 
To  the  Better  Land. 
Jesus,  blessed  Saviour, 

Keep  us  ever  near, 
Let  Thy  grace  and  favor 
Shield  us  all  the  year. 

Jesus,  precious  Saviour, 

Make  us  all  Thine  own, 
Make  us  Thine  forever, 
Make  us  Thine  alone. 
Let  each  day,  each  moment, 

Of  this  glad  New-year, 
Be  for  Jesus  only, 
Jesus,  Saviour  dear. 

Then,  O  blessed  Saviour, 

Never  need  we  fear, 
For  Thy  grace  and  favor 

Crown  our  bright  New-year  ! 


HYMN  FOR  IRELAND. 

'  The  isles  shall  wait  upon  Me,  and  on  Mine 
arm  shall  they  trust.'— ISA.  li.  5. 

FATHER,  we  would  plead  Thy  promise, 
bending  at  Thy  glorious  throne, 

That  the  isles  shall  wait  upon  Thee,  trust- 
ing in  Thine  arm  alone ! 

One  bright  isle  we  bring  before  Thee, 
while  in  faith  Thy  children  pray 

For  a  full  and  mighty  blessing,  with 
united  voice  to-day. 


i6o 


HYMNS. 


Gracious  Saviour,  look  in  mercy  on  this 

Island  of  the  West, 
Win  the  wandering  and  the  weary  with 

Thy  pardon  and  Thy  rest  : 
As  the  only  Friend  and  Saviour  let  Thy 

blessed  name  be  owned, 
Who  hast  shed  Thy  blood  most  precious, 

and  forever  hast  atoned  ! 

Blessed  Spirit,  lift  Thy  standard,  pour 
Thy  grace,  and  shed  Thy  light ! 

Lift  the  veil  and  loose  the  fetter ;  come 
with  new  and  quickening  might  : 

Make  the  desert  places  blossom,  shower 
Thy  sevenfold  gifts  abroad  ; 

Make  Thy  servants  wise  and  steadfast,  val- 
iant for  the  truth  of  God. 

Triune  God  of  grace  and  glory,   be  the 

isle  for  which  we  plead 
Shielded,    succored   with    Thy   blessing, 

strong  in  every  hour  of  need  ; 
Flooded  with  Thy  truth  and  glory  (glowing 

sunlight  from  above), 
And  encompassed  with  the  ocean  of  Thine 

everlasting  love. 

Oh,  surround  Thy  throne  of  power  with 

Thine  emerald  bow  of  peace  : 
Bid  the  wailing,  and  the  warring,  and  the 

wild  confusion  cease. 
Thou   remainest  King  for  ever, — Thou 

shalt  reign,  and  earth  adore  ! 
Thine   the   kingdom,    Thine   the  power, 

Thine  the  glory  evermore. 


CHURCH  MISSIONARY  JUBILEE 
HYMN. 

He  shall  see  of  the  travail  of  His  soul  and  shall 
be  satisfied.' — Isa.  liii.  n. 

REJOICE  with  Jesus  Christ  to-day, 
All  ye  who  love  His  holy  sway  1 


The  travail  of  His  soul  is  past, 
He  shall  be  satisfied  at  last. 

Rejoice  with  Him,  rejoice  indeed, 
For  He  shall  see  His  chosen  seed  ! 
But  ours  the  trust,  the  grand  employ, 
To  work  out  this  divinest  joy. 

Of  all  His  own  He  loseth  none, 
They  shall  be  gathered  one  by  one  ; 
He  gathereth  the  smallest  grain, 
His  travail  shall  not  be  in  vain. 

Arise  and  work  !  arise  and  pray 
That  He  would  haste  the  dawning  day ! 
And  let  the  silver  trumpet  sound, 
Wherever  Satan's  slaves  are  found. 

The  vanquished  foe  shall  soon  be  stilled, 
The  conquering  Saviour's  joy  fulfilled, 
Fulfilled  in  us,  fulfilled  in  them, 
His  crown,  His  royal  diadem. 

Soon,  soon  our  waiting  eyes  shall  see 
The  Saviour's  mighty  Jubilee  ! 
His  harvest-joy  is  filling  fast, 
He  shall  be  satisfied  at  last ! 


THY  FATHER  WAITS  FOR  THEE. 

WANDERER  from  thy  Father's  home, 

So  full  of  sin,  so  far  away, 
Wilt  thou  any  longer  roam  ? 

Oh,  wilt  thou  not  return  to-day  ? 

Wilt  thou  ?  Oh,  He  knows  it  all, 
Thy  Father  sees,  He  meets  thee  here  ! 

Wilt  thou  ?  Hear  His  tender  call, 
'  Return,  return  ! '  while  He  is  near. 

He  is  here  !     His  loving  voice 

Hath    reached    thee,    though    so    far 

away  ! 
He  is  waiting  to  rejoice, 


THY   FATHER   WAITS   FOR  THEE. 

WANDERER    FROM   THY   FATHER'S   HOME, 
SO    FULL   OF   SIN,    SO    FAR    AWAY, 

WILT  THOU    ANY    LONGER    ROAM  ? 

OH,    WILT  THOU    NOT   RETURN    TO-DAY  ? 

WILT  THOU  ?      OH,    HE   KNOWS   IT   ALL, 

THY    FATHER   SEES,    HE    MEETS   THEE    HERE 

WILT   THOU  ?      HEAR    HIS   TENDER    CALL, 

"  RETURN,    RETURN   !    '     WHILE    HE    IS    NEAK. 


Page  1 60. 


WHAT  WILL  YOU   DO   WITHOUT   HIM? 


O  wandering  one,  o'er  thee  to-day. 
Waiting,  waiting  to  bestow 

His  perfect  pardon,  full  and  free  ; 
Waiting,  waiting  till  thou  know 

His  wealth  of  love  for  thee,  for  thee  ! 

Rise  and  go  !     Thy  Father  waits 

To  welcome  and  receive  and  bless  ; 
Thou  shalt  tread  His  palace  gates 

In  royal  robes  of  righteousness. 
Thine  shall  be  His  heart  of  love, 

And    thine   His  smile,  and  thine  His 

home, 
Thine  His  joy,  all  joys  above — 

O  wandering  child,  no  longer  roam  ! 


WILL  YOU  NOT  COME  /> 

WILL  you  not  come  to  Him  for  Life  ? 

Why  will  ye  die,  oh,  why  ? 
He  gave  His  life  for  you,  for  you  1 
The  gift  is  free,  the  word  is  true  ! 

Will  you  not  come  ?  oh,  why  will  you 
die? 

Will  you  not  come  to  Him  for  Peace  r> 
Peace  through  His  cross  alone  ! 

He  shed  His  precious  blood  for  you  ; 

The  gift  is  free,  the  word  is  true  ! 

He  is  our  Peace — oh,  is  He  your  own  ? 

Will  you  not  come  to  Him  for  Rest  t 

All  that  are  weary,  come  ! 
The  rest  He  gives  is  deep  and  true; 
'Tis  offered  now,  'tis  offered  you  ! 

Rest  in  His  love  and  rest  in  His  home. 

Will  you  not  come  to  Him  for  Joy  /> 

Will  you  not  come  for  this  ? 
He  laid  His  joys  aside  for  you, 
To  give  you  joy  so  sweet,  so  true  : 

Sorrowing  heart,  oh,  drink  of  the  bliss  ! 
11 


Will  you  not  come  to  Him  for  Love, 

Love  that  can  fill  the  heart  ? 
Exceeding  great,  exceeding  free  ! 
He  loveth  you,  He  loveth  me  ! 

Will  you  not  come  ?     Why  stand  you 
apart  ? 

Will  you  not  come  to  Him  for  ALL  ? 

Will  you  not  '  taste  and  see  ?  ' 
He  waits  to  give  it  all  to  you, 
The  gifts  are  free,  the  words  are  true  1 

Jesus  is  calling,  'Come  unto  Me  !' 


WHAT  WILL   YOU  DO   WITHOUT 

HIM  /> 

1  COULD  not  do  without  Him  ! 

Jesus  is  more  to  me 
Than  all  the  richest,  fairest  gifts 

Of  earth  could  ever  be. 
But  the  more  I  find  Him  precious — 

And  the  more  I  find  Him  true—- 
The more  I  long  for  you  to  find 

What  He  can  be  to  you. 

You  need  not  do  without  Him, 

For  He  is  passing  by, 
He  is  waiting  to  be  gracious, 

Only  waiting  for  your  cry  ; 
He  is  waiting  to  receive  you — 

To  make  you  all  His  own  ! 
Why  will  you  do  without  Him, 

And  wander  on  alone  ? 

Why  will  you  do  without  Him  ? 

Is  He  not  kind  indeed  ? 
Did  He  not  die  to  save  you  ? 

Is  He  not  all  you  need  ? 
Do  you  not  want  a  Saviour  ? 

Do  you  not  want  a  Friend  ? 
One  who  will  love  you  faithfully. 

And  love  you  to  the  end  ? 


1 62 


HYMNS. 


Why  will  you  do  without  Him? 

The  word  of  God  is  true, 
The  world  is  passing  to  its  doom — 

And  you  are  passing  too. 
It  may  be  no  to-morrow 

Shall  dawn  on  you  or  me ; 
Why  will  you  run  the  awful  risk 

Of  all  eternity  ? 

What  will  you  do  without  Him, 

In  the  long  and  dreary  day 
Of  trouble  and  perplexity, 

When  you  do  not  know  the  way, 
And  no  one  else  can  help  you, 

And  no  one  guides  you  right, 
And  hope  comes  not  with  morning, 

And  rest  comes  not  with  night  ? 

You  could  not  do  without  Him, 

If  once  He  made  you  see 
The  fetters  that  enchain  you, 

Till  He  hath  set  you  free  : 
If  once  you  saw  the  fearful  load 
Of  sin  upon  your  soul — 
The  hidden  plague  that  ends  in  death, 

Unless  He  makes  you  whole. 

What  will  you  do  without  Him 

When  death  is  drawing  near  ? 
Without  His  love — the  only  love 

That  casts  out  every  fear  ; 
When  the  shadow-valley  opens, 

Unlighted  and  unknown, 
And  the  terrors  of  its  darkness 

Must  all  be  passed  alone  ! 

What  will  you  do  without  Him, 
When  the  great  white  throne  is  set, 

And  the  Judge  who  never  can  mistake, 
And  never  can  forget, — 

The  Judge  whom  you  have  never  here 
As  Friend  and  Saviour  sought, 


Shall  summon  you  to  give  account 
Of  deed  and  word  and  thought  ? 

What  will  you  do  without  Him, 

When  He  hath  shut  the  door, 
And  you  are  left  outside,  because 

You  would  not  come  before  ? 
When  it  is  no  use  knocking, 

No  use  to  stand  and  wait, 
For  the  word  of  doom  tolls  through  your 
heart, 

That  terrible  '  Too  late  !' 

You  cannot  do  without  Him  ; 

There  is  no  other  Name 
By  which  you  ever  can  be  saved, 

No  way,  no  hope,  no  claim  1 
Without  Him — everlasting  loss 

Of  love,  and  life,  and  light ! 
Without  Him — everlasting  woe, 

And  everlasting  night. 

But  with  Him — oh  !  with  Jesus  I 

Are  any  words  so  blest  ? 
With  Jesus,  everlasting  joy 

And  everlasting  rest ! 
With  Jesus, — all  the  empty  heart 

Filled  with  His  perfect  love  ; 
With  Jesus, — perfect  peace  below, 

And  perfect  bliss  above. 

Why  should  you  do  without  Him  ? 

It  is  not  yet  too  late  ; 
He  has  not  closed  the  day  of  grace, 

He  has  not  shut  the  gate. 
He  calls  you  ! — hush  !    He  calls  you  1 

He  would  not  have  you  go 
Another  step  without  Him, 

Because  He  loves  you  so. 

He  would  not  do  without  you  ! 
He  calls  and  calls  again — 


HE   HATH   DONE  IT! 


163 


'Come  unto  Me  !     Come  unto  Me  !' 
Oh,  shall  He  call  in  vain  ? 

He  wants  to  have  you  with  Him  ; 
Do  you  not  want  Him  too? 

You  cannot  do  without  Him, 
And  He  wants — even  you. 


< FORGIVEN— -EVEN  UNTIL  NO  W. ' 

(NUM.  xiv.  19.) 
FOR  NEW  YEAR'S  DAY,   1879. 

'  THOU  hast  forgiven — even  until  now  !' 
We  bless  Thee,  Lord,  for  this, 

And  take  Thy  great  forgiveness  as  we  bow 
In  depth  of  sorrowing  bliss  ; 

While  over  all  the  long,  regretful  past 

This  veil  of  wondrous  grace  Thy  sovereign 
hand  doth  cast. 

'  Forgiven  until  now  !'     For  Jesus  died 

To  take  our  sins  away  ; 
His  Blood  was  shed,  and  still  the  infinite 

tide 

Flows  full  and  deep  to-day. 
He  paid  the  debt ;  we  own  it,  and  go  free ! 
The  cancelled  bond  is  cast  in  Love's  un- 
fathomed  sea. 

*  Forgiven  until  now  !'     For  God  is  true, 

Faithful  and  just  is  He  ! 
Forgiving,  cleansing,  making  all   things 

new ! 

'  Who  is  a  God  like  Thee  ?' 
O  precious  blood  of  Christ,  that  saves  and 

heals, 

While  all  its  cleansing  might  the   Holy 
Ghost  reveals. 

Yes,  '  even  until  now !'  And  so  we  stand, 
Forgiven,  loved,  and  blessed  ; 

And,  covered  in  the  shadow  of  God's  hand, 
Believing,  are  at  rest 


The  one  great  load  is  lifted  from  the  soul, 
That  henceforth  on  the  Lord  all  burdens 
we  may  roll. 

Yes,  'even  until  now  !'   Then  let  us  press 

With  free  and  willing  feet 
Along  the  King's  highway  of  holiness, 

Until  we  gain  the  street 
Of  golden  crystal,  praising  purely  when 
We  see  our  pardoning  Lord  ;  forgiven  un- 
til then  ! 


HE  HATH  DONE  IT! 

« I  have  blotted  out,  as  a  thick  cloud,  thy  trans- 
gressions, and,  as  a  cloud,  thy  sins  :  return  unto 
Me  ;  for  I  have  redeemed  thee.  Sing,  O  ye  hea- 
vens ;  for  the  Lord  hath  done  it.' 

ISA.  xliv.  22,  23. 

« I  know  that,  whatsoever  God  doeth,  it  shall 
be  for  ever  :  nothing  can  be  put  to  it,  nor  any- 
thing taken  from  it.' — ECCLES.  iii.  14. 

SING,  O  heavens  !  the  Lord  hath  done  it ! 

Sound  it  forth  o'er  land  and  sea  ! 
Jesus  says,  '  I  have  redeemed  thee, 

Now  return,  return  to  Me. ' 
Oh  return,  for  His  own  life-blood 

Paid  the  ransom,  made  us  free 
Evermore  and  evermore. 

For  I  know  that  what  He  doeth 
Stands  for  ever,  fixed  and  true  ; 

Nothing  can  be  added  to  it, 
Nothing  left  for  us  to  do  ; 

Nothing  can  be  taken  from  it, 
Done  for  me  and  done  for  you, 
Evermore  and  evermore. 

Listen  now  !  the  Lord  hath  done  it ! 

For  He  loved  us  unto  death  ; 
It  is  finished  !     He  has  saved  us  ! 

Only  trust  to  what  He  saith. 
He  hath  done  it !    Come  and  bless  Him, 

Spend  in  praise  your  ransomed  breath 
Evermore  and  evermore. 


1 64 


HYMNS. 


O  believe  the  Lord  hath  done  it ! 

Wherefore  linger  ?  wherefore  doubt  ? 
All  the  cloud  of  black  transgression 

He  Himself  hath  blotted  out. 
He  hath  done  it !     Come  and  bless  Him, 

Swell  the  grand  thanksgiving  shout 
Evermore  and  evermore. 


ASKING. 
LuKExi.  13. 

O  HEAVENLY  Father,  Thou  hast  told 
Of  a  Gift  more  precious  than  pearls  and 

gold  : 

A  Gift  that  is  free  to  every  one, 
Through  Jesus  Christ,  Thy  only  Son 
For  His  sake,  give  it  to  me. 

Oh,  give  it  to  me  !  for  Jesus  said, 
That  a  father  giveth  his  children  bread, 
And  how  much  more  Thou  wilt  surely  give 
The  gift  by  which  the  dead  shall  live  ! 
For  Christ's  sake,  give  it  to  me. 

If  Thou  hast  said  it,  I  must  believe 
It  is  only  '  ask  'and  I  shall  receive  ; 
If  Thou  hast  said  it,  it  must  be  true, 
And  there's  nothing  else  for  me  to  do  ! 
For  Christ's  sake,  give  it  to  me. 

So  I  come  and  ask,  because  my  need 

Is  very  great  and  real  indeed. 

On  the  strength  of  Thy  word  I  come  and 

say, 

Oh,  let  Thy  wora  come  true  to-day  ! 
For  Christ's  sake,  give  it  to  me  ! 


LOVE  FOR  LOVE. 

i  JOHN  iv.  16. 

KNOWING  that  the  God  on  high, 
With  a  tender  Father's  grace, 
Waits  to  hear  your  faintest  cry, 
Waits  to  show  a  Father's  face, — 


Stay  and  think  ! — oh,   should  not  you 
Love  this  gracious  Father  too  ? 

Knowing  Christ  was  crucified, 
Knowing  that  He  loves  you  now 

Just  as  much  as  when  He  died 

With  the  thorns  upon  His  brow, — 

Stay  and  think  ! — oh,    should  not  you 

Love  this  blessed  Saviour  too  ? 

Knowing  that  a  Spirit  strives 

With  your  weary,   wandering  heart, 
Who  can  change  the  restless  lives, 

Pure  and  perfect  peace  impart, — 
Stay  and  think  ! — oh,   should  not  you 
Love  this  loving  Spirit  too  ? 


NOTHING   TO  PAY. 

NOTHING  to  pay !     Ah,   nothing  to   pay ! 
Never  a  word  of  excuse  to  say  ! 
Year  after  year  thou  hast  filled  the  score, 
Owing  thy  Lord  still  more  and  more. 

Hear  the  voice  of  Jesus  say, 
'  Verily  thou  hast  nothing  to  pay  ! 
Ruined,  lost  art  thou,  and  yet 
I  forgave  thee  all  that  debt. ' 

Nothing  to  pay  !  the  debt  is  so  great  ; 
What  will  you  do  with  the  awful  weight  ? 
How  shall  the  way  of  escape  be  made  ? 
Nothing  to  pay  !  yet  it  must  be  paid  ! 

Hear  the  voice  of  Jesus  say, 
'  Verily  thou  hast  nothing  to  pay  ! 
All  has  been  put  to  My  account, 
I  have  paid  the  full  amount.' 

Nothing  to  pay  ;  yes,  nothing  to  pay  ! 
Jesus  has  cleared  all  the  debt  away  ; 
Blotted  it  out  with  His  bleeding  hand  ! 
Free  and  forgiven  and  loved  you  stand. 

Hear  the  voice  of  Jesus  say, 
*  Verily  thou  hast  nothing  to  pay  ! 
Paid  is  the  debt,  and  the  debtor  free  ! 
Now  I  ask  thee,  lovest  thou  ME  ?' 


A   HAPPY    CHRISTMAS   TO   YOU  ! 

FOR   THE   LIGHT   OF   LIFE   IS    BORN." 


Page  165. 


CHRISTMAS   VERSES. 


A  MERRIE  CHRISTMAS. 

'  A  MERRIE  Christmas  '  to  you  ! 

For  we  serve  the  Lord  with  mirth, 
And  we  carol  forth  glad  tidings 

Of  our  holy  Saviour's  birth. 
So  we  keep  the  olden  greeting 

With  its  meaning  deep  and  true, 
And  wish  '  a  merrie  Christmas ' 

And  a  happy  New  Year  to  you  I 

Oh,  yes  !  'a  merrie  Christmas, ' 

With  blithest  song  and  smile, 
Bright  with  the  thought  of  Him  who  dwelt 

On  earth  a  little  while, 
That  we  might  dwell  for  ever 

Where  never  falls  a  tear  : 
So  '  a  merrie  Christmas '  to  you, 

And  a  happy,  happy  year  ! 


A  HAPPY  CHRISTMAS. 

A  HAPPY  Christmas  to  you  ! 

For  the  Light  of  Life  is  born, 
And  His  coming  is  the  sunshine 
Of  the  dark  and  wintry  morn. 
The  grandest  orient  glow  must  pale, 
The  loveliest  western  gleams  must  fail : 
But  His  great  Light, 
So  full,  so  bright, 
Ariseth  for  thy  heart  to-day  ; 
His  shadow-conquering  beams  shall  never 
pass  away. 


A  happy  Christmas  to  you  ! 

For  the  Prince  of  Peace  is  come, 
And  His  reign  is  full  of  blessings, 

Their  very  crown  and  sum. 
No  earthly  calm  can  ever  last, 
Tis  but  the  lull  before  the  blast  : 
But  His  great  peace 
Shall  still  increase 
In  mighty,  all-rejoicing  sway  ; 
His  kingdom  in  thy  heart  shall  never  pass 
away. 


OUR  SAVIOUR   CHRIST  WAS 
BORN. 

OUR  Saviour  Christ  was  born 
That  we  might  have  the  rose  without  the 
thorn  ; 

All  through  His  desert  life 
He  felt  the  thorns  of  human  sin  and  strife. 

His  blessed  feet  were  bare 
To  every  hurting  brier ;  He  did  not  spare 
One  bleeding  footstep  on  the  way 
He  came  to  trace  for  us,  until  the  day 
The  cruel  crown   was   pressed   upon  the 

Brow, 
That  smiles  upon  us  from  His  glory  now. 

And  so  He  won  for  us 
Sweet,  thornless,  everlasting  flowers  thus  ! 

He  bids  our  desert  way 
Rejoice  and  blossom  as  the  rose  to-day. 

There  is  no  hidden  thorn 
In  His  good   gifts   of  grace ;  He  would 
adorn 

165 


1 66 


CHRISTMAS   VERSES. 


The  lives  that  now  are  His  alone, 

With  brightness  and  with  beauty  all  His 
own. 

Then  praise  the  Lord  who  came  on  Christ- 
mas Day 

To  give  the  rose  and  take  the  thorn  away. 


CHRISTMAS  GIFTS. 

'Thou  hast  received  gifts  for  men.' — Ps.  Ixviii. 
18. 

CHRISTMAS  gifts  for  thee, 

Fair  and  free  ! 

Precious  things  from  the  heavenly  store, 
Filling  thy  casket  more  and  more  ; 
Golden  love  in  divinest  chain, 
That  never  can  be  untwined  again  ; 
Silvery  carols  of  joy  that  swell 
Sweetest  of  all  in  the  heart's  lone  cell  ; 
Pearls  of  peace  that  were  sought  for  thee 
In  the  terrible  depths  of  a  fiery  sea  ; 
Diamond  promises  sparkling  bright, 
Flashing  in  farthest  reaching  light. 

Christmas  gifts  for  thee, 

Grand  and  free ! 

Christmas  gifts  from  the  King  of  love, 
Brought  from  His  royal  home  above  ; 
Brought  to  thee  in  the  far-off  land, 
Brought  to  thee  by  His  own  dear  hand. 
Promises  held  by  Christ  for  thee, 
Peace  as  a  river  flowing  free, 
Joy  that  in  His  own  joy  must  live, 
And  love  that  Infinite  Love  can  give. 
Surely  thy  heart  of  hearts  uplifts 
Carols  of  praise  for  such  Christmas  gifts  ! 


CHRISTMAS  MOTTOES. 
UNTO  you  the  Child  is  born, 
On  this  blessed  Christmas  morn. 
Unto  you,  to  be  your  Peace  ; 

Unto  you,  for  He  hath  found  you  ; 


Unto  you,  with  full  release 

From  the  weary  chains  that  bound  you  : 
Unto  you  that  you  may  rise 
Unto  Him  above  the  skies. 


THE  wilderness  shall  rejoice, 

And  the  wintry  waste  shall  sing, 
At  the  wakening  herald  voice 

Of  the  coming  of  the  King. 
So  the  sparkling  Christmas  snow 

Is  dearer  than  summer  light ; 
For  He  whom  we  love  came  down  below 

In  the  hush  of  a  Christmas  night. 
May  thy  Christmas  morning  break 

Holy  and  bright  and  calm  ; 
And  may  all  thy  life  for  His  dear  sake 

Be  a  joyful  Christmas  psalm. 


Is  it  a  wintry  night  ? 

Watch  !  for  the  heavenly  light 
Shineth,  O  mourner,  around  and  above ! 

Tidings  of  joy  to  thee 

Float  on  the  minstrelsy  ! 
Rise  up  and  welcome  the  Son  of  His  love. 


1  Behold,  thy  King  cometh  unto  thee.' — ZECH. 
xi.  9. 

COMETH  in  lowliness, 

Cometh  in  righteousness, 
Cometh  in  mercy  all  royal  and  free  ! 

Cometh  with  grace  and  might, 

Cometh  with  love  and  light ; 
Cometh,  beloved  !  He  cometh  to  thee  ! 


BRIGHT  be  thy  Christmas  tide  ! 
Carol  it  far  and  wide, 
Jesus,  the  King  and  the  Saviour,  is  come  ! 


THE   ANGELS   KNOW   THE   BLESSED   DAY, 

AND    STRIKE   THEIR    HARPS    ANEW  ? 
THEN    MAY    THE   ECHO    OF   THEIR    LAY 

FLOAT   SWEETLY    DOWN   TO    YOU, 
AND   FILL   YOUR   SOUL   WITH   CHRISTMAS  SONG 
THAT  YOUR   HEART  SHALL   ECHO   YOUR   WHOLE  LIFE  LONG 


Page  167. 


CHRISTMAS   SUNSHINE. 


I67 


Jesus  thy  guest  will  be  ; 
Oh,  let  him  dwell  with  thee  ! 
Open  thy  heart  for  His  palace  and  home. 


WHAT  do  the  angels  sing  ? 

What  is  the  word  they  bring  ? 
What  is  the  music  of  Christmas  again  ? 

Glad  tidings  still  to  thee, 

Peace  and  good-will  to  thee. 
Glory  to  God  in  the  highest !     Amen. 


OH,  Christmas  blessings  cannot  cease, 
Christmas  joy  is  deep  and  strong  ! 

For  Christ  is  come  to  be  our  Peace, 
Our  Salvation  and  our  Song. 


CHRISTMAS    GIFTS. 

THE  wondrous  love  and  light, 

The  fulness  and  the  glory, 
The  meaning  and  the  might 

Of  all  the  Christmas  story, 
May  Christ  Himself  unfold  to  you  to-day, 
And  bid  you  go  rejoicing  on  your  way. 


A  HAPPY,  happy  Christmas 

Be  yours  to-day ! 
Oh,  not  the  failing  measure 
Of  fleeting  earthly  pleasure, 
But  Christmas  joy  abiding, 
While  years  are  swiftly  gliding, 

Be  yours,  I  pray, 
Through  Him   who  gave 
Day! 


us   Christmas 


A  BRIGHT  and  blessed  Christmas  Day, 

With  echoes  of  the  angels'  song, 
And  peace  that  cannot  pass  away, 


And  holy  gladness,  calm  and  strong, 
And  sweet  heart  carols,  flowing  free  ! 
This  is  my  Christmas  wish  to 


DOWN  the  ages  hoary 

Peals  the  song  of  glory, 

Peace,  and  God's  good-will ! 

Other  echoes  die  away, 

But  the  song  of  Christmas  Day 

Echoes  from  the  Judean  hill, 

Ever  clearer,  louder  still. 

Oh,  may  its  holy,  heavenly  chime 

Make  all  thy  life  a  Christmas-time  ! 


CHRISTMAS  SUNSHINE. 

Do  the  angels  know  the  blessed  day, 
And  strike  their  harps  anew  ? 

Then  may  the  echo  of  their  lay 
Float  sweetly  down  to  you, 

And  fill  your  soul  with  Christmas  song 

That  your  heart  shall  echo  your   whole 
life  long. 


JESUS  came  ! — and  came  for  me  ! 

Simple  words  !  and  yet  expressing 
Depths  of  holy  mystery, 

Depths  of  wondrous  love  and  blessing. 

Holy  Spirit,  make  me  see 
All  His  coming  means  for  me  ; 
Take  the  things  of  Christ,  I  pray, 
Show  them  to  my  heart  to-day. 


OH,  let  thy  heart  make  melody, 
And  thankful  songs  uplift, 

For  Christ  Himself  is  come  to  be 
Thy  glorious  Christmas  gift. 


1 68 


CHRISTMAS  VERSES. 


A  HAPPY,  happy  Christmas, 

And  a  happy,  happy  year  ! 
Oh,  we  have  not  deserved  it, 

And  yet  we  need  not  fear. 
For  Jesus  has  deserved  it, 

And  so  for  Jesus'  sake, 
This  cup  of  joy  and  blessing 

With  grateful  hand  we  take. 


THERE  is  silence  high  in  the  midnight  sky, 
And  only  the  sufferers  watch  the  night ; 
But  long  ago  there  was  song  and  glow, 
And  a  message  of  joy  from  the  Prince 

of  Light, 

And  the  Christmas  song  of  the  messenger- 
throng 
The  echoes  of  life  shall  forever  prolong, 


GREAT  is  the  mystery 

Of  wondrous  grace, 
God  manifest  we  see 

In  Jesu's  face. 
O  deepest  mystery 

Of  Love  Divine, 
God  manifest  for  me, 

And  Jesus  mine  ! 


WHAT  was  the  first  angelic  word 
That  the  startled  shepherds  heard  ? — 
'  Fear  not ! '     Beloved,  it  comes  to  you 
As  a  Christmas  message  most  sweet  and 

true, 

As  true  for  you  as  it  was  for  them 
In  the  lonely  fields  of  Bethlehem  ; 
And  as  sweet  to-day  as  it  was  that  night, 
When  the  glory  dazzled  their  mortal  sight. 


CHRIST  is  come  to  be  my  Friend, 

Leading,  loving  to  the  end  ; 
Christ  is  come  to  be  my  King, 
Ordering,  ruling  everything. 


Christ  is  come  !     Enough  for  me, 
Lonely  though  the  pathway  be 


GIVE  me  a  song,  O  Lord, 
That  I  may  sing  to  Thee, 

In  true  and  sweet  accord 
With  angel  minstrelsy. 

Oh,  tune  my  heart  that  it  may  bring 

A  Christmas  anthem  to  my  King. 


SWELL  the  notes  of  the  Christmas  Song  ! 
Sound  it  forth  through  the  earth  abroad  ! 

Glory  to  God  ! 

Blessing  and  honor,  thanks  and  laud  ! 
Take  the  joy  of  the  Christmas  Song  ! 
Are  not  the  tidings  good  and  true  ? 

Peace  to  you, 
And  God's  good-will  that  is  ever  new  ! 


CHRIST  is  come  to  be  thy  Light, 
Shining  through  the  darkest  night  ; 
He  will  make  thy  pilgrim  way 
Shine  unto  the  perfect  day. 
Take  the  message  !  let  it  be 
Full  of  Christmas  joy  to  thee  ! 


WONDERFUL. 

'For  unto  us  a  child  is  born,  unto  us  a  son  is 
given  ;  and  the  government  shall  be  upon  His 
shoulder :  and  His  Name  shall  be  called  Won- 
derful, Counsellor,  The  Mighty  God,  The  Ever- 
lasting Father,  The  Prince  of  Peace.'— Isa.  ix.  6. 

WONDERFUL  !  Wonderful  ! 

Ring  out  the  Name,  O  Christmas  chimes  I 

Wonderful !  Wonderful ! 
Echo  the  word  to  farthest  climes  ! 
May  the  splendor  of  this  great  Name 
Shine  and  glow  with  a  mighty  flame, 


MAN  OF  REST. 


I69 


Filling  thy  life  with  its  glorious  rays, 
Filling  thy  Spirit  with  Christmas  praise. 


COUNSELLOR. 

MIST  and  cloud  and  darkness 
Veil  the  wintry  hour, 

But  the  sun  dispels  them 
With  his  rising  power. 

Mist  and  cloud  and  darkness 

Often  dim  thy  day, 
But  a  Christmas  glory 

Shines  upon  thy  way. 

May  the  Lord  of  Christmas, 
Counsellor  and  Friend, 

Light  thy  desert  pathway 
Even  to  the  end. 


THE  EVERLASTING  FATHER. 

O  NAME  of  gentlest  grace, 
O  name  of  strength  and  might, 
Meeting  the  heart-need  of  our  orphaned 

race 

With  tenderest  delight  1 
Our  Everlasting  Father  !     This  is  He 
Who  came  in  deep  humility 
A  little  child  to  be  ! 


THE  MIGHTY  GOD. 

THE  Christmas  bells  proclaim 
His  glorious  name, 
1  The  Mighty  God ! ' 

God  manifest  indeed, 


And  yet  the  Woman's  Seed, 

To  whom  we  sing 
All  glory,  praise,  and~laud  1 

Divinest  Lord  and  King. 


THE  PRINCE  OF  PEACE. 

O  NAME  of  beauty  and  of  calm  ! 

O  Name  of  rest  and  balm, 

Of  exquisite  delight, 
And  yet  of  sovereignty  and  might ! 
Let  it  make  music  in  thy  heart  to-day, 
And  bid  thee  go  rejoicing  on  thy  way  ; 
For   Jesus  is  thy  Peace,  thy   Prince   of 

Peace, 

Whose  reign  within  thy  heart  shall  ever- 
more increase. 


MAN  OF  REST. 

*  Behold,  a  son  shall  be  born  to  thee,  who  shall 
be  a  man  of  rest.' — I  CHRON.  xxii.  9. 

HAIL,  Christmas  morn  ! 

For  unto  us  the  Son  is  born, 
The  Man  of  Rest ! 
The  weary  quest 

Is  over  now,  for  He  who  cometh,  calleth, 
'  Come  unto  Me,  and  I  will  give  you  rest !' 

The  still  voice  falleth 
On  hearts  that,  listening,  are  blessed. 

And  daily  shall  the  blessing  flow, 

And  daily  shall  the  gladness  grow, 
For  we  which  have  believed  do  enter  into 

rest 


NEW   YEAR   VERSES. 


A   HAPPY  NEW  YEAR   TO   YOU. 

NEW  mercies,  new  blessings,  new  light  on 

thy  way ; 
New  courage,  new  hope,  and  new  strength 

for  each  day  ; 
New  notes  of  thanksgiving,  new  chords  of 

delight, 
New  praise  in  the  morning,  new  songs  in 

the  night ; 
New  wine  in  thy  chalice,  new  altars  to 

raise  ; 
New  fruits  for  thy  Master,  new  garments 

of  praise  ; 
New  gifts  from  His  treasures,  new  smiles 

from  His  face  ; 
New  streams  from  the  fountain  of  infinite 

grace; 
New  stars  for  thy  crown,  and  new  tokens 

of  love  ; 
New  gleams  of  the  glory  that  waits  thee 

above  ; 

New  light  of  His  countenance  full  and  un- 
priced ; — 
All  this  be  the  joy  of  thy  new  life  in  Christ  I 


ANOTHER  YEAR. 

ANOTHER  year  is  dawning  I 
Dear  Master,  let  it  be, 

In  working  or  in  waiting, 
Another  year  with  Thee. 

Another  year  of  leaning 
Upon  Thy  loving  breast, 
170 


Of  ever-deepening  trustfulness, 
O  quiet,  happy  rest. 

Another  year  of  mercies, 
Of  faithfulness  and  grace  ; 

Another  year  of  gladness 
In  the  shining  of  Thy  face. 

Another  year  of  progress, 
Another  year  of  praise  ; 

Another  year  of  proving 
Thy  presence  '  all  the  days.' 

Another  year  of  service, 
Of  witness  for  Thy  love  ; 

Another  year  of  training 
For  holier  work  above. 

Another  year  is  dawning, 
Dear  Master,  let  it  be, 

On  earth,  or  else  in  heaven, 
Another  year  for  Thee  ! 


FAITHFUL  PROMISES. 

ISA.  xli.  10. 
NEW  YEAR'S  HYMN. 
STANDING  at  the  portal 

Of  the  opening  year, 
Words  of  comfort  meet  us, 

Hushing  every  fear ; 
Spoken  through  the  silence 

By  our  Father's  voice, 
Tender,  strong,  and  faithful, 

Making  us  rejoice. 


A  HAPPY  NEW  YEAR. 


171 


Onward  then,  and  fear  not, 
Children  of  the  day  ! 

For  His  word  shall  never, 
Never  pass  away  ! 

I,  the  Lord,  am  with  thee, 

Be  thou  not  afraid  ! 
I  will  help  and  strengthen, 

Be  thou  not  dismayed  ! 
Yea,  I  will  uphold  thee 

With  my  own  right  hand  ; 
Thou  art  called  and  chosen 

In  my  sight  to  stand. 
Onward  then,  and  fear  not, 

Children  of  the  day  ! 
For  His  word  shall  never, 

Never  pass  away  ! 

For  the  year  before  us, 

Oh,  what  rich  supplies ! 
For  the  poor  and  needy 

Living  streams  shall  rise ; 
For  the  sad  and  sinful 

Shall  His  grace  abound ; 
For  the  faint  and  feeble 

Perfect  strength  be  found. 
Onward  then,  and  fear  not, 

Children  of  the  day  ! 
For  His  word  shall  never, 

Never  pass  away  1 

He  will  never  fail  us, 

He  will  not  forsake  ; 
His  eternal  covenant 

He  will  never  break  ! 
Resting  on  His  promise, 

What  have  we  to  fear  ? 
God  is  all-sufficient 

For  the  coming  year. 
Onward  then,  and  fear  not, 

Children  of  the  day  ! 
For  His  word  shall  never, 

Never  pass  away ! 


NEW  FEAR'S  WISHES. 

WHAT  shall  I  wish  thee  ? 

Treasures  of  earth  ? 
Songs  in  the  Spring-time, 

Pleasure  and  mirth  ? 
Flowers  on  thy  pathway, 

Skies  ever  clear  ? 
Would  this  ensure  thee 

A  Happy  New  Year  ? 

What  shall  I  wish  thee? 

What  can  be  found 
Bringing  thee  sunshine 

All  the  year  round  ? 
Where  is  the  treasure, 

Lasting  and  dear, 
That  shall  ensure  thee 

A  Happy  New  Year  ? 

Faith  that  increaseth, 

Walking  in  light  ; 
Hope  that  aboundeth, 

Happy  and  bright ; 
Love  that  is  perfect, 

Casting  out  fear  ; — 
These  shall  ensure  thee 

A  Happy  New  Year. 

Peace  in  the  Saviour, 

Rest  at  His  feet, 
Smile  of  His  countenance 

Radiant  and  sweet, 
Joy  in  His  presence, 

Christ  ever  near  ! — 
This  will  ensure  thee 

A  Happy  New  Year ! 


A  HAPPY  NEW  YEAR. 

A  HAPPY  New  Year !  Oh  such  may  it  be  ! 
Joyously,  surely,  and  fully  for  thee  I 


NEW  YEAR  VERSES. 


Fear  not  and  faint  not,  but  be  of  good 

cheer, 
And  trustfully  enter  thy  Happy  New  Year  ! 

Happy,    so   happy !      Thy   Father  shall 

guide, 
Protect  thee,  preserve  thee,    and  always 

provide  ! 

Onward  and  upward  along  the  right  way 
Lovingly  leading  thee  day  by  day. 

Happy,  so  happy  !  Thy  Saviour  shall  be 
Ever  more  precious  and  present  with  thee ! 
Happy,  so  happy  !  His  Spirit  thy  Guest, 
Filling  with  glory  the  place  of  His  rest 

Happy,    so    happy  1      Though   shadows 

around 
May  gather  and  darken,   they  flee  at  the 

sound 
Of  the  glorious  Voice  that  saith,    '  Be  of 

good  cheer ! ' 
Then  joyously  enter  thy  happy  New  Year  ! 


NEW  YEARS  MOTTOES. 
*From  tliis  day  will  I  bless  you.'— HAG.  ii.  19 

1  FROM  this  day/ 
He  shall  bless! 
What  shall  then  distress  thee  ? 

'  From  this  day ' 
He  will  never  leave  thee  ; 
What  shall  grieve  thee  ? 
Christ,  thy  mighty  Friend, 
Loveth  to  the  end 

'  From  this  day  ! ' 


« Be   glad  and  rejoice,  for  the  Lord  will  do 
great  things.' — JOEL  ii.  21. 

THE  Lord  hath  done  great  things  for  thee 
All  through  the  fleeted  days 


[ehovah  hath  dealt  wondrously  ; 

Lift  up  thy  heart  and  praise ! 
"or  greater  things  thine  eyes  shall  see, 

Child  of  His  loving  choice  ! 
The  Lord  will  do  great  things  for  thee  ; 

Fear  not,  be  glad,  rejoice  ! 


WONDROUSLY 
The  Lord  hath  dealt  with  thee  1 
Wondrous  mercy  all  the  way, 
Wondrous  patience  every  day, 
Wondrous  pardon,  wondrous  feeling, 
Wondrous  help  and  wondrous  lead- 
ing 
Through  the  bygone  year. 

Wondrously 
The  Lord  shall  deal  with  thee  ! 

Wondrous  tenderness  and  grace, 
Wondrous  shining  of  His  face, 
Wondrous  faithfulness  and  power, 
Wondrous   love,     shall    twine   each 

bower 
Through  the  coming  year  1 


CROWN  the  year  with  Thy  goodness,  Lord  ! 
And  make  every  hour  a  gem 
In  the  living  diadem, 

That  sparkles  to  Thy  praise. 

Crown  the  year  with  Thy  grace,  O  Lord  I 
Be  Thy  fresh  anointings  shed 
On  Thy  waiting  servant's  head, 
Who  treads  Thy  royal  ways. 

Crown  the  year  with  Thy  glory,  Lord  1 
Let  the  brightness  and  the  glow 
Of  its  heavenly  overflow 
Crown  Thy  beloved's  days  ! 


NEW   YEAR   MOTTOES. 


173 


STRONG  and  loving  is  thy  Friend  1 
Trust  Him  for  the  untried  year ! 

He  shall  lead  thee  to  the  end, 
Ever  gracious,  ever  near. 

As  the  everlasting  hills 

Thou  shalt  find  His  faithfulness  ; 

As  the  crystal  mountain-rills. 


1  And  on  the  east  side  toward  the  rising  of  the 
sun  shall  they  of  the  standard  of  the  camp  of 
Judah  pitch  throughout  their  armies  :  and  Nah- 
shon  the  son  of  Amminadab  shall  be  captain  of 
the  children  of  Judah.'— NUM.  ii.  3. 

TOWARD  the  rising  of  the  sun 
Now  thy  standard  raise  ! 

Let  thy  New  Year's  halt  be  one 
In  the  Camp  of  Praise. 

Then  the  wilderness  shall  be 

Fruitful,  fair,  and  glad  for  thee. 


ANOTHER  year  of  patient  toil, 

A  few  sheaves  won  from  rocky  soil, 

May  seem  not  much  to  thee  ; 
But  all  thy  work  is  with  the  Lord, 
And  thine  exceeding  great  reward, 

Thy  God  Himself  shall  be. 


PRAISING  together  for  all  the  way, 

Now  let  us  welcome  our  New  Year's 
Day, 

Rejoicing  together  in  faith  and  love, 
Hoping  together  for  rest  above. 


ETERNITY  with  Jesus 

Is  long  enough  for  rest ; 
Thank  God  that  we  are  spared  to  work 

For  Him  whom  we  love  best ! 


'  The  Lord  bless  thee,  and  keep  thee  :  The 
Lord  make  His  face  to  shine  upon  thee,  and  be 
gracious  unto  thee:  The  Lord  lift  up  His 
countenance  upon  thee,  and  give  thee  peace.' 
NUM.  vi.  24-26. 

THE  threefold  blessing  Israel  heard 

Three  thousand  years  ago, 
God  grant  it  may  on  thee  to-day 

In  power  and  fulness  flow  ; 
That  Light  and  Peace  in  grand  increase 

All  through  the  year  may  glow. 


LORD  JESUS,  keep  our  dear  one 

All  through  the  year  ; 
By  day  and  night  Thy  presence  bright 

Be  ever  near ; 
And  Thy  sweet  word  be  always  heard 

To  guide  and  cheer. 


*  I  will  sing  of  mercy  and  judgment.' — Ps.  ci.  I. 

ONE  year  less 
Of  wisely-ordered  loss, 
Of  sorrow  and  of  weariness, 
Conflict  and  cross. 
One  year  more 
Of  mercies  ever  new, 
Of  love  in  never-failing  store, 
Faithful  and  true. 


'  He  it  is  that  doth  go  before  thee  ;  He  will 
be  with  thee,  He  will  not  fail  thee. ' — DEUT. 
xxxi.  8. 

THE  Lord  thy  God  ! 
He  it  is  that  goes  before  thee, 
His  the  banner  waving  o'er  thee, 

Bright  and  broad  ! 
When  the  fiercest  foes  assail  thee, 
He  it  is  that  will  not  fail  thee, 

The  Lord  thy  God  1 


174 


NEW  YEAR  VERSES. 


'  The  righteous,  and  the  wise,  and  their  works, 
are  in  the  hand  of  God.'— ECCLES.  ix.  i. 

THE  future  !  who  may  lift  the  veil 
And  read  its  yet  unwritten  tale  ? 
But  sorrow  and  joy  alike  we  leave 

In  the  Hand  that  doeth  all  things  well, 
And  calmly  from  that  Hand  receive 

All  that  each  coming  year  may  tell. 
We  would  not  ask  of  life  or  death, 
It  shall  be  as  the  Master  saith. 


Now  Thy  loving  Spirit 
On  our  lives  outpour  ; 

Make  us  know  Thee  better, 
Make  us  love  Thee  more. 

Take  us  now,  we  pray  Thee, 
Make  us  all  Thine  own  ; 

Keep  us  Thine  for  ever, 
Keep  us  Thine  alone  ! 


'  NOT  as  the  world  giveth 

Give  I  to  you  !' 
Saith  the  Redeemer, 

Faithful  and  True. 
May  He  enrich  thee, 

This  New  Year's  Day, 
With  gifts  from  His  treasure 

That  pass  not  away. 


THIS  New  Year  Thou  givest  me, 
Lord,  I  consecrate  to  Thee, 
With  all  its  nights  and  days  : 
Fill  my  hand  with  service  blest, 
Fill  my  heart  with  holy  rest, 
And  fill  my  life  with  praise. 


A  BRIGHT  New  Year,  and  a  sunny  track 

Along  an  upward  way, 
And  a  song  of  praise  on  looking  back, 

When  the  year  has  passed  away, 
And  golden  sheaves  nor  small  nor  few  ! 
This  is  my  New  Year's  wish  for  you  ! 


ANOTHER  year  for  Jesus  ! 

How  can  I  wish  for  you 
A  greater  joy  or  blessing, 

O  fellow-worker  true  ? 


Is  the  work  difficult  ? 

Jesus  directs  thee. 
Is  the  path  dangerous  ? 

Jesus  protects  thee. 
Fear  not,  and  falter  not, — 

Let  the  word  cheer  thee  ! — 
All  through  the  coming  year 

He  will  be  with  thee  ! 


HAPPY,  because  He  loves  thee ! 

Happy,  because  He  lives ! 
Bright  with  that  deepest  gladness 

Which  only  Jesus  gives. 
Happy,  because  He  guides  thee, 

Because  He  cares  for  thee  ; 
Happy,  ever  so  happy, 

Thus  may  thy  New  Year  be  1 


FOR  the  weariest  day 

May  Christ  be  thy  stay  1 
For  the  darkest  night 

May  Christ  be  thy  light  1 
For  the  weakest  hour 

May  Christ  be  thy  power  I 
For  each  moment's  fall 

May  Christ  be  thy  All ! 


ARISE,   FOR   HE   IS   RISEN  TO-DAY, 

AND  SHINE,    FOR   HE   IS   GLORIFIED  ; 

PUT  ON   THY   BEAUTIFUL  ARRAY, 

AND    KEEP    PERPETUAL    EASTER-TIDE. 


175. 


EASTER   ECHOES. 


ARISE,  for  He  is  risen  to-day, 
And  shine,  for  He  is  glorified  ; 

Put  on  thy  beautiful  array, 
And  keep  perpetual  Easter-tide. 


THE  white  flowers,  freed 
From  snowy  sepulchres,  may  speak 

In  angel-tone  to  thee; — 

'  Oh,  fear  not  ye  ! 
The  Saviour  whom  ye  seek 

Is  risen  indeed !' 


IN  the  likeness  of  His  death 

We  were  planted, 
Therefore,  by  His  Spirit's  breath 

Resurrection-life  is  granted  ; — 
Resurrection  beauty  glowing, 
Resurrection  power  outflowing, 
Resurrection  gladness  cheering, 
Resurrection  glory  nearing. 


*  SHALL  rise  again  T 
His  word  shall  be 
Enough  for  thee, 

O  mourning  heart,  so  full  of  pain  I 
Yet  see 


By 


The  promise  sealed, 
loveliest  miracles.       Each   wakening 
flower 

Of  fell  or  field, 
Is  fair  new  proof  of  resurrection  power. 


FAR  on  the  mountain  height 

They  grew  ; 
Each  vivid  tint 

A  new 

And  fair  imprint 
Of  the  once  pierced  Feet, 

A  token  sweet 
(Sent  very  tenderly), 

That  Jesus  lives  and  loves  and  cares  for 
me. 


OH,  let  me  know 
The  power  of  Thy  resurrection  ! 

Oh,  let  me  show 
Thy  risen  life  in  clear  reflection  ! 

Oh,  let  me  soar 
Where  Thou,  my  Saviour  Christ,  art  gone 

before ! 

In  mind  and  heart 

Let  me  dwell  always,  only,  where  Thou 
art 

175 


BIRTHDAY    POEMS. 


CECILIA  HA  VERGAL. 

C  HRIST  hath  called  thee,  Christ  hath  blest, 

E  verlasting  life  is  thine  ; 

C  losely  cleaving,  thou  shalt  rest 

I  n  His  glorious  love  divine. 

L  et  Him  teach  thee  what  He  will, 

I  n  thee  day  by  day  fulfil 

A  11  His  sweet  and  blessed  will. 

H  e  is  come  to  claim  His  throne, 

A  nd  thy  life  is  all  His  own  ; 

V  oices  of  this  passing  earth, 

E  choes  of  its  praise  or  mirth, 

R  each  not,  when  the  heart  hath  heard 

G  olden  music  of  His  word. 

'  A  11  for  Jesus '  henceforth  be  ! 

L  ive  for  Him  who  died  for  thee. 


EDITH  HA  VERGAL. 
E  ARLY  chastening,  early  blessing  ! 
D  arkest  cloud  hath  brightest  bow  I 
I  n  the  night  of  pain  distressing, 
T  hine  hath  been  the  joy  to  show 
H  ow  God  is  a  Sun  and  Shield. 

H  eir  thou  art  by  His  good  pleasure, 
A  11  thy  title  spirit-sealed  ! 
V  iew  thy  grand  and  royal  treasure — 
E  very  gift  in  Love's  full  measure, 
R  iches  of  His  grace,  so  great, 
G  lory's  far  exceeding  weight, 
A  11  in  Christ  for  ever  thine  ! 
L  ight  and  Life  and  Love  Divine ! 
176 


FOR  E.  P.  S. 

F  RANCIE,  may  thy  childhood  be 

Asa  blossom-laden  tree, 

S  howing  promise  full  and  free. 

W  ILLIE,  be  thy  life  a  song, 
H  oly,  happy,  sweet,  and  long, 
S  welling  through  a  world  of  wrong. 

A  LFRED,  be  a  fragrant  flower, 
H  ailing  either  sun  or  shower, 
S  weetest  in  its  fading  hour. 

A  LICE,  in  thy  baby  measure, 

E  ver  be  thy  parent's  treasure, 

S  howering  golden  love  and  pleasure. 


MIZPAH. 

MESSAGES   FOR   ABSENT   FRIENDS. 

ONLY  a  leaf,  yet  it  shall  bear 

A  wealth  of  love,  of  mintage  true  I 

Only  a  simple,  earnest  prayer, 
That  silently  goes  up  for  you  ; 

Yet  you  and  I  may  never  know 

What  blessings  from  that  prayer  may  flow. 

*  GRACE,  mercy,  peace, ' 
Triple  blossom,  rainbow-hued, 

Fresh  and  fragrant,  heaven-bedewed, 
Brightening  desert  solitude  ; 
Springing  from  the  Love  Divine, 
Love  that  ever  shall  entwine 
With  our  own,  with  yours  and  mine. 


UPON  THE  SAME   BRIGHT  MORNING  STAR 
'  OUR  GAZE   MAY   MEET,    THOUGH   SEVERED   FAR  J 
THE  STAR   OF   BETHLEHEM   TO-DAY 
SHINES  BRIGHTLY   ON   OUR   WINTRY  WAY  ; 
AND  GAZING  ON   ITS   RADIANCE  CLEAR, 
OUR    HEARTS   MAY   MEET,    AND   WE   ARE  NEAR  ! 


Page  177. 


BIRTHDAY   MOTTOES. 


177 


UPON  the  same  bright  morning  star 

Our  gaze  may  meet,  though  severed  far  : 

The  Star  of  Bethlehem  to-day 

Shines  brightly  on  our  wintry  way  ; 

And  gazing  on  its  radiance  clear, 

Our  hearts  may  meet,  and  we  are  near  ! 


As  the  sounding  shell  conveys 

The  murmur  of  the  sea, 
So  let  this  tiny  token  raise 

Some  memory  of  me  ; 
For  loving  thought  of  prayer  and  praise 

Fail  not  to  rise  for  thee. 


THOUGH  the  circling  flight  of  time  may 

find  us 

Far  apart,  or  severed  more  and  more, 
Yet  the  farewell  always  lies  behind  us, 
And  the  welcome  always  lies  before. 
Meanwhile  God  is  leading,  surely,  slowly, 
Through  the  shadows  with  a  hand  of 

love, 
To   the  house  where,   'mid  the  myriads 

holy, 
Only  welcomes  wait  us  both  above. 


BIRTHDAY  MOTTOES. 

MAY  the  tale  the  years  are  telling, 

Always  be 

Like  an  angel-anthem  swelling 
Through  thy  spirit's  quiet  dwelling, 
Till  the  glory  all-excelling 

Dawn  for  thee  ! 


MANY  a  happy  year  be  thine, 

If  our  Father  will! 
He  has  traced  the  fair  design, 
He  will  fill  it,  line  by  line, 
Working  patiently,  until 
13 


Thy  completed  life  shall  shine, 
Glorious  in  the  life  divine. 


MANY  and  happy  thy  birthdays  be  ! 

In  the  light  of  heaven  arrayed ; 
With  the  rainbow  arching  every  cloud 

When  the  pathway  lies  in  shade  ; 
And  full  and  far  may  the  blessing  flow, 

That  thy  future  life  is  made. 


LOVE  would  strew  upon  thy  way 

Fairest,  freshest  flowers  to-day ; 
Love  would  daily,  hourly  shed 

Brightest  sunbeams  on  thy  head. 
So  she  prays  :  that  heavenly  grace 

Be  thy  flower-awakening  dew, 
And  the  brightness  of  His  face 

Gild  thy  life  with  sunshine  true. 


1  UPWARD,  still  upward/  thy  pathway  be, 
Into  the  sunshine  grand  and  free  ; 
Leaving  the  mists  and  clouds  below, 
Gaining  the  pure  and  stainless  snow. 
Upward,    still    upward  !      Thy    faithful 

Guide 

Always  close  at  His  pilgrim's  side, 
Leading  thee  on  from  height  to  height, 
Nearer  and  nearer  the  stars  of  light 


BIRTHDAY  blessings,  fullest,  sweetest, 

Fall  on  thee  to-day ! 
Earthly  pleasure,  fairest,  fleetest, 

Will  not,  cannot  stay ; 
But  the  true  and  heavenly  treasure , 

Cannot  pass  away : 
May  its  richest,  grandest  measure 

Gild  thy  natal  day  ! 


BIRTHDAY  POEMS. 


THE  Love  of  God  the  Father, 
The  Grace  of  God  the  Son, 

The  Joy  of  God  the  Holy  Ghost,— 
A  blessing  three  in  one, 

Be  yours  aboundingly,  I  pray, 

For  this  and  every  coming  day  ! 


LEANING,  resting,  trusting,  loving, 

Enter  thy  New  Year  ! 
For  the  Lord  who  lives  to  love  thee 

Will  be  always  near, 
Shielding,  guiding,  caring,  blessing  !- 

What  has  thou  to  fear  ? 


WE  pray  Thee  for  our  dear  one  ! 

May  a  sunny  birthday  prove 
The  portal  of  long  happy  years, 

All  radiant  with  Thy  love. 
And  we  praise  Thee  for  our  dear  one  ! 

For  all  the  mercies  past, 
And  for  all  the  blessings  that  shall  flow 

While  life  itself  shall  last 


A  HOLY,  happy  birthday, 

And  a  happy,  happy  year  1 
Ah,  we  have  not  deserved  it, 

And  yet  we  need  not  fear. 
For  Jesus  has  deserved  it ! 

And  so,  for  Jesus'  sake, 
This  cup  of  joy  and  blessing 

With  grateful  heart  we  take. 


I  HAVE  no  birthday  gift  to  bring, 
But  I  will  crave  a  Royal  dower, 
The  seven-fold  largesse  of  the  King. 

His  Peace  be  thine,  His  Love  unknown  ; 
His  own  deep  Joy,  His  Strength  and  Power, 
His  Grace  abounding,  be  thine  own  ! 


His  Rest  be  thine,  sweet  rest  to-day, 
Rest  while  the  swift  years  pass  away, 
And  then  His  Glory  thine  for  aye  ! 


TO  M.    V.    G.  H. 

ON  HER  BIRTHDAY. 

THE  blessing  of  the  trusting  one, 

Who  knows  her  faithful  Friend  ; 
The  blessing  of  the  waiting  one, 

Who  trusts  Him  to  the  end  ; 
The  blessing  of  the  watching  one, 

Whose  eyes  are  on  the  Lord  ; 
The  blessing  of  the  chastened  one, 

That  marvellous  reward  ! — 
These  sweetest  birthday  blessings  be 

Abundantly  bestowed  on  thee  ! 

Blessing  and  blest 
May  thy  new  year  be, 

Brightest  and  best 
Of  the  years  to  thee, 

Awaiting  the  rest 
Of  eternity  ! 


M.  L.   C.'S  BIRTHDAY  CROWN. 
ONLY  just  a  line  to  say, 
Miriam,  on  this  summer  day, 
What  my  spirit's  love  would  breathe, 
While  thy  birthday  crown  I  wreathe. 

Crown  !     How  many  a  mingled  thought 
By  that  little  word  is  brought ! 
Yet  may  each  enlinked  be 
In  a  birthday  wish  for  thee. 

One  who  wears  a  crown  should  reign 
Sovereign  over  some  domain  ; 
Held  by  thee,  love's  fairy  sway 
Still  may  every  heart  obey. 


FOR   ELIZABETH    CLAY'S   BIRTHDAY. 


179 


First  we  think  of  royal  gems, 
Coronets  and  diadems  ; 
'Twere  an  idle  wish,  I  ween, 
Be  thou  happy  as  a  Queen  I 

To  another  crown  we  turn, 
While  our  loving  hearts  would  burn, 
Worn  by  Him  who  on  the  tree, 
Miriam,  hath  died  for  thee. 

By  that  thorn-enwoven  crown, 
By  the  life  for  thee  laid  down, 
May  thy  every  fleeting  year 
Bring  thee  to  His  love  more  near  ! 

Then  the  crown  of  golden  light, 
Worn  by  those  who  walk  in  white, 
May  that  be  thy  blest  reward 
In  the  presence  of  thy  Lord  ! 


TO  JOHN  HENRY  C— 

THIRD    BIRTHDAY. 

BLESSINGS  on  thee,  darling  boy, 
Peace  and  love  and  gentle  joy  ! 
May  the  coronal  they  twine 
Through  the  dream  of  life  be  thine  ! 

Little  hast  thou  known  of  life, 
Of  its  sorrow,  of  its  strife, 
Thine  not  yet  dark  Future's  blast, 
Thine  not  yet  a  shadowy  Past 

While  we  reck  of  coming  years, 
Strangely  mingling  hopes  and  fears, 
What  are  sober  thoughts  to  thee, 
In  the  tide  of  birthday  glee  ! 

Thou  art  beautiful  and  bright, 
Daily  wakening  new  delight, 
Would  that  we  the  prize  could  hold, 
Always  keep  thee  three  years  old  ! 


ON  HIS 


No,  not  always ;  thou  may'st  be 
Something  brighter  yet  to  see  ; 
Noble-hearted,  lofty-souled, 
When  more  years  have  o'er  thee  rolled. 

Love  is  watching  round  thee  now, 
Tracing  sunbeams  on  thy  brow ; 
Never  be  her  mission  done 
To  thy  father's  only  son  ! 

Yet  a  higher,  deeper  love 
Watcheth  o'er  thee  from  above  ; 
Then  thy  fount  of  motive  be 
Love  to  Him  who  loveth  thee. 

Darling,  may  thy  years  below 
Like  a  strain  of  music  flow, 
Ever  sweeter,  purer,  higher, 
Till  it  swell  the  angel  choir. 

Be  thy  life  a  star  of  light, 
Glistening  through  earth's  stormy  night, 
Shining  then  with  glorious  ray 
Through  the  One  Eternal  Day  ! 


FOR    ELIZABETH  CLAY'S 
BIRTHDAY. 

'  MY  presence  shall  go  with  thee 
And  I  will  give  thee  rest !' 

A  promise  sweetly  tender, 
Soothing  the  anxious  breast 

He  knows  the  lonely  spirit, 

And  all  its  hidden  woe  ; 
He  knows  the  weary  yearnings 

No  earthly  friend  can  know. 

His  presence  shall  go  with  thee, 
And  His  upholding  hand 

Thy  orphaned  footsteps  guiding 
All  through  the  stranger's  land. 


i8o 


BIRTHDAY  POEMS. 


Encompassed  by  that  Presence 
Thou  wilt  not  be  alone, 

And  thou  may'st  safely  rest  thee 
'Neath  the  shadow  of  His  throne. 

When  spring-time's  emerald  glory 
Bids  hill  and  valley  smile, 

And  thou  once  more  regainest 
The  white  cliffs  of  our  isle, 

Shall  I  not  hear  thee  whisper, 
In  accents  calmly  blest — 

'  His  presence  hath  been  with  me, 
And  He  hath  given  me  rest  ? 


1  COMING  OF  AGE: 

(j.    H.    S.) 

WHAT  do  we  seek  for  him  to-day,   who, 

through  such  golden  gates 
Of  mirth  and  gladness,  enters  now  where 

life  before  him  waits  ? 
'Mid  light  and  flowers  the  feast  is  spread, 

and  young  and  old  rejoice, 
And  motto  texts  speak  out  for  all,   with 

earnest,  loving  voice. 

The  threefold  blessing  Israel  heard  three 

thousand  years  ago, 
Oh  !  grant  it  may  on  him  to-day  in  power 

and  fulness  flow ; 
For,    faithful   and    unchangeable,     each 

word  of  God  is  sure, 
Though  heaven  and  earth  shall  pass  away, 

His  promises  endure 

The  Angel  of  the  Covenant,    redeeming 

from  all  ill 
Both  son  and  father,   bless  the  lad,    and 

every  prayer  fulfil; 


Not  only  bless,  but  make  him  too,  a 
blessing,  Lord,  from  Thee  : 

With  length  of  days,  oh,  satisfy  ;  let  him 
Thy  glory  see. 

Through  all  the  journey  of  his  life,   Thy 

presence  with  him  go  ; 
Rest  in  Thee  here,  and  with  Thee  there, 

do  Thou,  O  Lord,  bestow. 
Oh,  keep  him  faithful  unto  death,  then 

grant  to  him,  we  pray, 
The  crown  of  glory  and  of  life,  that  fadeth 

not  away. 

So  shall  the  father's  soul  be  glad  for  him 
he  holds  so  dear, 

A  son  whose  heart  is  truly  wise  in  God's 
most  holy  fear ; 

And  hallowed  be  our  festal  joy  with  grati- 
tude and  praise  ; 

Forget  not  all  His  benefits,  whose  kind- 
ness crowns  our  days. 

Then  glory  in  the  highest  be  to  Him,  our 

Strength  and  Song  ; 
May  every  heart  uplift  its  part,  in  blessings 

deep  and  long. 
Through  Him  who  died  that  we  might 

live,  our  thanks  to  God  ascend, 
The  King  of  kings,  and  Lord  of  lords,  our 

Saviour  and  our  Friend. 


TO  THE  REV.  C  B.  SNEPP. 

I  HAVE  no  hymn,  my  brother, 

Upon  your  desk  to  lay, 
No  song  of  holy  gladness 

To  bring  to  you  to-day  ; 

To  'Songs  of  Grace  and  Glory* 
No  verses  sweet  and  new  1 


SATURDAY  NIGHT. 


181 


I  write  not  for  ten  thousand, 
I  only  write  for  you. 

For  oh,  my  heart  is  singing 

A  song  of  quiet  praise 
To  Him  who  has  preserved  you, 

Upholding  all  your  ways. 

To  Him  who  knows  our  sorrows, 
Who  knew  the  orphan's  heart, 

And  sent  a  friend  to  cheer  it, 
And  act  a  brother's  part. 

So  I  come  before  my  Father, 
My  hands  in  faith  uplift, 

To  fill  your  cup  with  gladness 
And  every  perfect  gift 

And  may  His  loving-kindness 
Crown  all  with  grace  for  grace, 

Till  in  the  coming  glory 
You  stand  before  His  face  ! 

And  see  with  light  from  heaven, 
Cl«ar-shining  on  thy  ways, 


Each  pilgrimage  petition 
Transmuted  into  praise. 


SA  TURD  A  Y  NIGHT. 

TO   THE   SAME. 

LORD,  refresh  Thy  weary  servant, 
Send  him  sweet  and  quiet  rest  ; 

Thou  hast  made  him  oft  a  blessing, 
Let  him  now  be  doubly  blest 

Let  him  feel  Thy  holy  presence 
Richly  dwelling  in  his  soul, 

Every  care  and  every  burden 
Bid  him  on  Jehovah  roll. 

Lord,  as  he  for  Thee  hath  spoken, 
Now  to  him,  oh  do  Thou  speak  ! 

With  Thy  still  small  voice  of  comfort 
Crown  the  mercies  of  the  week. 

May  He  wake  with  strength  renewed, 
Yet  again  to  work  for  Thee  ; 

Full  of  Sabbath  joy  and  blessing 
Let  his  spirit  always  be  ! 


SONNETS. 


A    WAKING   THOUGHT. 

THEN    Time  will  seem  as  but  a  pebble 

cast 

Into  the  ocean  of  Eternity, 
Breaking  for  one  short  moment  that  pure 

light, 
Which  dwells  upon  its  calm  expanse  of 

joy, 

As   into  smVring  radiance,    and   shade- 
like  circles. 

Soon  melting  back  into  primeval  bright- 
ness, 
(Like  that  which  was,   when  all  created 

essence 
Took  but  the  forms  of  blended  light  and 

music, 

In  glory  of  an  infinite  variety), 
Through  the  translucent  crystal  of  that  sea, 
It  swiftly  sinks  to  rest,  within  the  depths 
Of  that  great  heart,  like  an  aye-glistening 
And  treasured  memory  of  things  gone  by, 
Bearing,  deep  graven  on  its  pale,  clear 

front, 
One  word — REDEMPTION  ! 


LIFE    MOSAIC. 

MASTER,  to  do  great  work  for  Thee,   my 

hand 
Is  far  too  weak  !    Thou  givest  what  may 

suit — 

Some  little  chips  to  cut  with  care  minute, 
Or  tint,  or  grave,  or  polish.   Others  stand 
Before  their  quarried  marble  fair  and  grand, 
182 


And  make  a  life  work  of  the  great  design 

Which     Thou     hast    traced ;  or,   many- 
skilled,  combine 

To  build  vast  temples,  gloriously  planned. 

Yet   take  the  tiny  stones  which    I   have 

wrought, 

Just  one  by  one,  as  they  were  given  by 
Thee, 

Not    knowing  what  came  next  in   Thy 
wise  thought. 

Set  each   otone  by  Thy  master-hand   of 

grace, 
Form  the  mosaic  as  Thou  wilt  for  me, 

And  in  Thy  temple-pavement  give  it  place. 


TO  HELGA. 

COME  down,   and  show  the  dwellers  far 

below 

What  God  is  painting  on  each  moun- 
tain place  ! 
Show  His  fair  colors,  and  His  perfect 

grace, 
Dowering  each  blossom  born  of  sun  and 

snow  : 
His   tints,    not  thine !     Thou   art  God's 

copyist, 

O  gifted  Helga  !  His  thy  golden  height, 

Thy  purple  depth,  thy  rosy  sunset  light, 

Thy  blue  snow-shadows,   and  thy  weird 

white  mist 

Reveal  His  works  to  many  a  distant  land  ! 
Paint  for  His  praise,  oh  paint  for  love 
of  Him! 


LUKE  IX.    13. 


183 


He  is  thy  Master,  let  Him  hold  thy  hand, 
So  thy  pure  heart  no  cloud  of  self  shall 

dim. 

At  His  dear  feet  lay  down  thy  laurel-store, 
Which  crimson  proof  of  thy  redemption 

bore. 

MEMORIAL    NAMES. 

THE  High  Priest  stands  before  the  Mercy 

Seat, 
And   on   his   breast   bright    mingling 

jewel- flames 

Reflect  Shechinah  light ;  twelve  patri- 
arch names 

Flash  where  the  emerald  and  sapphire  meet 

Sardius  and  diamond.     With  softer  beam, 

From   mystic  onyx  on   his    shoulders 

placed, 

Deep  graven,  never  altered  or  erased, 
The  same  great  names,  in  birthday  order, 

gleam. 

May  each  name  written  here  be  thus  en- 
graved, 
Set  in  the  place  of  power,  the  place  of 

love, 

And  borne  in  sweet  memorial  above, 
By  Him  who  loved  and  chose,  redeemed 

and  saved. 
Be  each  dear  name,    the  greatest  and 

the  least, 

Always   upon   the  heart   of  our  High 
Priest. 


OUR  RED-LETTER   DAYS. 

MY  Alpine  staff  recalls  each  shining  height, 
Each  pass  of  grandeur  with  rejoicing 

gained, 

Carved  with  a  lengthening  record,  self- 
explained, 

Of    mountain-memories     sublime     and 
bright. 


No  valley-life  but  hath  some   mountain 

days, 

Bright  summits  in  the  retrospective  view, 
And  toil-won  passes  to  glad  prospects 

new, 

Fair  sunlit  memories  of  joy  and  praise. 
Grave  on  thy  heart  each  past  '  red-letter 

day!' 

Forget  not  all  the  sunshine  of  the  way 
By  which  the  Lord   hath  led  thee  :  an- 
swered prayers 
And  joys    unasked ;    strange    blessings, 

lifted  cares, 
Grand   promise-echoes  1      Thus   thy  life 

shall  be 
One  record  of  His  love  and  faithfulness 

to  thee. 


LUKE   IX.   13. 

THE  Lord  commanded,    '  Give  ye  them 

to  eat/ — 
Five  loaves  and  two  small  fishes   all 

their  store 
For  hungering  crowds.     He  knew  they 

had  no  more, 
And    He  had  called  them  to   that  wild 

retreat. 
They  gave  it  as  He  gave  them,  piece  by 

peace, 
Where  on  the  green  grass  grouped  the 

great  and  small, 

Till  all  were  filled.  So  not  theirs  at  all 
But  His,  the  glory  of  that  grand  increase. 
Master,  I  have  not  strength  to  serve  Thee 

much, 

The  '  half-day's  work '  is  all  that  I  can  do, 
But  let  Thy  mighty  multiplying  touch 

Even  to  me  the  miracle  renew. 
Let  five  words  feed   five  thousand,    and 

Thy  power 
Expand  to  life-results  one  feeble  hour. 


IN    MEMORIAM. 


MY  MOTHERS  REQUEST. 

(SUNDAY  MORNING,  8  O'CLOCK.  ) 

THE  Sabbath  morn  dawns  o'er  the  moun- 
tain brow, 

And  lights  the  earth  with  glory  soft  and 
mild  : 

Oh,  thinks't  thou,  dearest  mother,  even 
now 

Of  me,  thy  youngest  and  most  wayward 
child  ? 

For  this,  my  mother,  is  the  sacred  hour 
When  thou  didst  bid  me  ever  think   of 

thee: 
Oh,   surely  nothing  earthly   could   have 

power 
To  break  the  spell  which  hallows  it  to  me. 

Thy  loving  look,  thy  feeble  voice,  I  seem, 
Though  years  have  passed,  to  see  and  hear 

again  ; 

Not  as  the  shadowy  fancies  of  a  dream, 
But  as  distinct,  as  vivid  now  as  then. 

*  When  in  my  Saviour's  glorious  home  I 

dwell, 

Forget  not  this  my  last  request  to  thee  : 
When   soundeth  forth  the  early  Sabbath 

bell, 
Where'er  thou  art,  my  Fanny,  think  of 

me!' 

Oh,  why  was  this  thy  dying  wish — thy 

last? 
Thou  would'st  not  think   that  I  should 

e'er  forget 
184 


My    mother's    love,    that    passing  years 

might  cast 
A.  cloudy  veil,  where  that  bright  star  did 

set; 

Thou  could'st  not  wish  to  wake  the  grief 

anew 
Which  Time's  dark  poppies  might  have 

lulled  awhile ; 
'Twas   not   that  tear-drops  might  again 

bedew 
My  cheek  for  aye,  and  chase  again  each 

smile. 

Oh   no  !   were  death  an  endless,  joyless 

sleep, 
Thou  hadst  not  bid  me  on  thy  memory 

dwell  ; 
This  hour  for  thee  thou  hadst  not  bid  me 

keep, 
To  grieve  thy  child,  thou  lovedst  her  too 

well. 

But  well  thou  knew'st  I  could  not  think 

of  thee 
Without  remembering   Him  with  whom 

thou  art, 

To  whom  thou  oft  didst  pray  so  fervently 
That  I  might  give  my  wandering,  wilful 

heart. 

I  must  remember  too  the  joyful  faith 
Which  filled  thy  soul  e'en  in  thy  dying 
hour, 


MAY  DIRGE. 


185 


And  led  thee  calmly  through  the  vale  of 

death ; 
There  I  must  ever  see  its  wondrous  power. 

I  could  not  but  fulfil  thy  last  desire, 
The  last  sweet  echo  of  thy  loving  voice, 
Calling  my  mind  each  Sabbath  morning 

higher, 

Where  thou  in  endless  Sabbath  dost  re- 
joice. 

So  if  my  heart  should  tempt  me  to  forget 
To  watch  and  pray,   and  Jesu's  love   to 

seek, 
This  quiet  hour  might  break  for  me  the 

net, 
And  free  my  feet  afresh   each  opening 

week. 

Oft  when  I  wavered,  slipped,  and  nearly 

fell, 
Yet  stunned  and  giddy  heeded  not  my 

fate, 

The  fatal  charm  was  broken  by  that  bellr 
Thy  memory  oped  my  eyes  ere  yet  too 

late. 

And  oft  when  sad  and  hopeless  seemed 

my  way, 

Its  sweet  sound  told  me  of  the  victory 
Which  thy  bright  faith  hath  gained,  and 

then  a  ray 
Of  hope  hath  whispered,  '  Such  may  be 

for  thee/ 

Oh,  'twas  a  mother's  love  which  did  de- 
vise 

This  gentle  way  of  helping  her  child's  soul; 

Not  on  earth  only,  but  from  yon  bright 
skies 

To  aid  her  steps  towards  the  heavenly 
goal. 


Oh,  Thou  who  dwellest  with  Thy  ran- 
somed, where 

The  one  long  Sabbath  ne'er  may  darkly 
close, 

By  Thy  rich  mercy  grant  this  earliest 
prayer, 

Which  oft  for  me  from  her  dear  lips  arose. 

Bring  me,  oh,  bring  me  to  Thy  house  of 

light, 
That  there  with  my  loved  mother  I  may 

dwell, 

And  e'er  rejoicing  in  Thy  presence  bright, 
May  praise  Thy  love,  who  doest  all  things 

well. 


MAY  DIRGE. 

I  WELCOME  not  thy  coming  now, 
For  sorrow  darkeneth  my  brow, 
And  but  for  glad  hearts  wakest  thou, 
Fair  May. 

When,  years  ago,  thou  dawnedst  bright, 
With  thy  first  hours  blest  my  sight 
The  fairest  child  that  e'er  saw  light 
Of  May. 

She  grew  a  gladder,  blither  thing 
Than  butterfly  on  purple  wing, 
Or  happy  birds  which  sweetly  sing 
In  May. 

'Twas  she  who  brought  my  sunniest  hours, 
For  she  was  lovelier  than  the  flowers 
Which  bloom  amid  thy  emerald  bowers, 
Bright  May. 

How  oft,    when  grief  had  touched  my 

heart, 

She  chased  it  with  her  fairy  art  ; 
Thy  charms  to  her  thou  didst  impart, 
Glad  May. 


1 86 


IN   MEMORIAM. 


But  oh  !  there  is  a  treacherous  smile, 
Which  Spring  assumeth  to  beguile, 
And  many  rue  thy  sunny  wile, 
False  May. 

A  flush  in  her  loved  cheek  arose, 
More  rich  than  ruby  tint  that  glows 
In  western  cloud  when  evenings  close 
In  May. 

Her  dark  eye  brightly,  strangely  gleamed, 
More  beautiful  then  e'er  she  seemed  ; 
Oh,  who  of  evil  nigh  had  dreamed 
That  May? 

But  when  the  snowdrop  came  again, 
1  saw  that  tenderest  care  was  vain  ; 
My  Ella  passed  from  all  her  pain 
In  May. 

That  precious  life  no  skill  could  save ; 
I  laid  her  in  a  quiet  grave, 
Where  now  the  snowy  blossoms  wave 
Of  May. 

Once  more  they  shed  their  sweet  perfume. 
As  incense  o'er  my  darling's  tomb, 
Though  soon  departs  their  fragile  bloom 
With  May. 

Thou  hast  my  child  !    Thy  sparkling  dew 
Is  glittering  on  her  grave  anew  ; 
Soon  thou  wilt  deck  her  father's  too, 
O  May! 

I  cannot  live  without  her  here, 
For  earth  is  desolate  and  drear, 
E'en  when  thy  morning  shineth  clear, 
Blithe  May. 

To  cheer  me  thou  canst  weave  no  spell. 
Deep  sadness  in  my  heart  doth  dwell, 
And  I  must  bid  my  last  farewell 
To  May. 


Speed,  speed  thy  slow  return,  for  when 
Once  more  thou  comest,  then,  oh  then, 
I  shall  be  with  my  child  again, 
Sweet  May  ! 


TO  F.  M.  G.  ON  HER  BROTHER'S 
DEATH. 

STAY  not  the  current  of  thy  tears,  for  they 
Must  flow,  and  'tis  a  sad  relief  to  weep 
For  one  who,  having  brightened  long  the 
way, 

Now  lies  in  death's  long  sleep. 

A  brother's  love  !     I  know  it  is  a  treasure 
Which    may   by  nothing  earthly   be    re- 
placed ; 

I  know  that  this  filled  up  the  bounteous 
measure 

Of  joy  which  thou  didst  taste. 

I  know  that  sadness  fills  thy  youthful  heart 
E'en  to  o'erflowing  ;  and  it  well  may  seem 
That   nought  to  thee  remaineth  but  the 
smart  ; 

Of  happiness  no  gleam. 

And  Jesus  knows  it.     Oh,  He  did  not  call 
Thy  brother  from  his  loving  sister's  side 
Without  remembering  thee,  thy  sorrows  all- 
He  knows  the  heart  He  tried. 

But  He  would  have  thee  turn  thy  weeping 
eye 

To  gaze  on  Him,  who  suffered  all  for  thee, 
That  the  effulgence  every  tear  may  dry 
Which  beams  from  Calvary. 

All  earthly  love  is  as  a  thread  of  gold, 
Most  fair,   but  what  the  touch  of  death 

may  sever : 

But  His  a  cable  sure,  of  strength  untold  : 
Oh  !  His  love  lasteth  ever. 


EVELYN. 


I87 


And  this  sweet  love  He  would  on  thee  be- 
stow, 

The  fulness  of  His  grace  to  thee  make 
known, 

A  glimpse  of  heaven  grant  thee  here  below, 
And  thou  shouldst  be  His  own. 

Thou  wilt  not  sigh,  if  this  one  Pearl  thou 

gain, 
O'er  earthly  treasures,  costly  though  they 

be. 

Short  is  the  night  of  weeping  and  of  pain  ; 
Endless  the  joy  for  thee  ! 

Thy  brother  striketh  now  his  harp  of  gold, 
And  singeth  joyously  his  first  '  new  song ; ' 
The  echo  of  his  melody  hath  rolled 
The  aisles  of  heaven  along. 

He  weareth  raiment  white,  which  angel 

hands 
From   the  full  vestry  of  the  Lamb  have 

brought ; 
With  palm  and  crown,  before  His  throne 

he  stands 

Who  him  by  blood  hath  bought. 

Gladness  unspeakable  his  soul  doth  fill, 
He  hath  forgotten  pain,  and  grief,    and 

sorrow ; 

Eternal  bliss  hath  dawned  on  him,  he  will 
See  no  woe-bringing  morrow. 

He  might  have  passed  through  many  a 

weary  year 

Of  sickness,  trouble,  or  perplexity, 
And  as  an  autumn  leaf,  all  brown  and  sere, 
Been  shaken  from  the  tree  ; 

He  might  have  forfeited  the  heavenly  prize, 
Had   he   lived  longer  on  the  Tempter's 
ground  : 


Then  gaze  no  longer  where  his  body  lies 
Beneath  the  new  formed  mound. 

Yes,  look  up  from  the  scene  of  mourning, 

where 
Nought  but  a  dreary  blank  thine  eyes  can 

see  : 
Thou  hast  a  brother  now  in  heaven,  and 

there 

He  waits  to  welcome  thee  ! 


EVELYN. 

DYING  ?  Evelyn,  darling  ! 

Dying  ?  can  it  be  ? 
Spring  so  joyous  all  around, 
Such  a  spring,  so  early-  crowned, 
Heralding  all  summer  glee, 
Life  for  everything  but  thee  ! 
Evelyn,  darling,  dying  ? 
Yet  it  is  no  phantom  sound, 
Though  the  word  is  haunting  me ; 

Thou  art  lying 
Now  where  life  and  death  do  meet, 
Thorny  path  and  golden  street. 
I  thought  I  had  no  heart  to  write, 
But  the  pencil  near  me  lay, 
Which  has  traced  me  many  a  day, 
Dipped  in  colors  dark  or  bright, 
Lays  I  guessed  would  meet  the  sight 

Of  at  least  some  loving  eye, 
And  perchance  be  heard  again, 
Winning  echoes  far  and  nigh, 
Touching  chords  of  sympathy 
In  the  weary  souls  of  men. 
And  I  took  it  in  my  hand, 
For  it  seemed  to  be  relief) 
After  this  long  week  of  grief) 
Just  to  let  the  thought  expand, 
And  the  word  that  haunted  me 
Just  to  write  ;  though  none  shall  see 


188 


IN  MEMORIAM. 


What  is  written,  only  He 
Who  is  gently  leading  Thee, 

Evelyn,  darling,  without  fears, 
Through  the  vale  of  death, — and  me 

Through  the  vale  of  tears. 

All  so  calm  ; — a  hazy  veil 

Falling  on  the  golden  west ; 
Silence,  like  a  minstrel  pale, 

Preluding  the  Sabbath  rest. 
There  is  night  before  the  dawn 
Rise  for  us  of  Sabbath  morn : 
Is  there  any  night  for  thee 
Ere  thine  eyes  the  glory  see  ? 
Are  the  angels,  bright  and  strong, 

Bearing  thy  free  soul  away, 
Teaching  thee  the  glad  new  song, 

On  the  grand  star-paven  way  ? 
Art  thou  even  now  at  rest, 
Lying  on  the  Saviour's  breast  ? 
Evelyn,  darling,  is  it  so  ? 
Would,  oh,  would  that  I  could  know  1 
I  can  only  wait  in  sorrow 
For  the  tidings  of  the  morrow. 

Evelyn,  darling,  laid  so  low ! 
Only  three  short  months  ago 
Thou  wert  full  of  life  and  glee, 
Round  the  laden  Christmas  tree  ; 
Foremost  in  the  carol-singing, 
Fun  and  frolic  gaily  flinging. 
Tallest,  fairest  of  the  troop, 

Opening  rose  on  slender  stem, 
Reigning  'mid  the  bright-eyed  group, 

Queen  without  a  diadem  ; 
In  thy  robe  of  snowy  sheen, 
Decked  with  silken  emerald  green. 
Few  there  are  who  ever  knew 

Merrier  holidays  than  thine, 
Whether  summer  breezes  blew, 

Or  the  winter  stars  did  shine. 


Evelyn,  darling,  can  it  be, 

Was  that  Christmas  tree  the  last  ? 

How  believe  it,  that  for  thee 
Christmas  holidays  are  past ! 

And  that  summer  leaves  will  wave, 
And  the  Easter  moon  will  shine, 

Over  the  first  household  grave, 
First, — and  thine! 

I  am  not  praying, — prayer  is  hushed, 

God's  hand  is  laid  upon  my  heart ; 
The  earthly  hope  for  ever  crushed. 

The  heavenly  answered,  not  in  part, 
But  fully,  perfectly  !      I  prayed 

For  life,  and  He  hath  given  the  life 
Which  triumphs   o'er    the    grave's    cold 
shade  ; 

For  peace,  and  He  hath  ended  strife 
And  spoken  love.     There  have  been  tears 
And  earnest  pleadings  through  long  years  ; 
But  He  is  faithful  to  His  word, 
I  know  at  last  that  He  has  heard. 
But  not,  oh  not  as  I  had  thought 

In  ignorant  and  selfish  love, 
The  Master  calls, — she  tarries  not, 

For  He  hath  need  of  her  above. 
The  lambs  He  gathers  with  His  arm, 
No  grief,  no  sin,  no  death  can  harm, 
So  safely  folded  on  His  breast, 
Forever  and  forever  blest. 
Could  God  Himself  give  more  ?     His  will 
Is  best,  though  we  are  weeping  still. 

Yet  the  old  cry  comes  again, 

Evelyn,  darling,  dying  ! 
Is  it  true,  or  is  it  dreaming  ? 
Is  it  only  ghastly  seeming 
Of  a  sorrow  far  away, 
Not  to  fall  for  many  a  day  ? 

If  I  saw  thee  lying, 
I  might  realize  it  so  ! 
Last  I  saw  thee  in  the  glow 


STARLIGHT  THROUGH  THE  SHADOWS. 


I89 


Of  thy  brightest  health  and  bloom  ; 

Was  it  only  for  the  tomb  ? 

Then  the  sorrow  grows  with  this — 

Not  a  word  of  fond  good-bye, 
Not  one  tender  parting  kiss, 

Not  one  glance  of  loving  eye  I 
Well  I  know  it  could  not  be  ! 
God's  appointed  way  for  me 
Was  assuredly — '  Be  still, 
Wait  in  silence  for  His  will.' 
Father,  I  have  said  Amen, 
Said  it  often,  now  again  ! 
Father,  strengthen  it  and  seal  ! 
Let  my  weary  spirit  feel 
I  am  very  near  to  Thee, 
For  Thy  hand  is  laid  on  me, — 
Though  the  shadows  gather  deep, 
Thou  canst  calm  and  aid  and  keep. 

Father,  where  the  shadows  fall 
Deeper  yet,  deepest  of  all, 
Send  Thy  peace,  and  show  Thy  power 
In  affliction's  direst  hour  ; 
To  each  mourning  heart  draw  near, 
Soothe  and  bless,  sustain  and  cheer. 
Thou  wilt  hear,  I  know  not  how  ! 
Thou  canst  help,  '  and  only  Thou. ' 
This  my  prayer  I  leave  with  Thee. 
Father  !  hear  and  answer  me 
For  the  sake  of  Him  who  knows 
All  our  love  and  all  our  woes. 


STARLIGHT  THROUGH  THE 
SHADOWS. 

i. 

THY  dear  one  is  with  Jesus  now  ! 

Seeing  Him  face  to  face, 
Gazing  upon  His  own  beloved  brow, 

Watching  His  smile  of  grace  ; 


Hearing   the   Master's   voice*  in   all    its 

sweetness, 

Knowing  Him  now  in  all  His"  own  com- 
pleteness ; 

With  Jesus  now,  with  him  forever  ! 
Never  to  leave  Him — grieve  Him  never  ! 
Could  God  Himself  give  more  ?     His  will 
Is  best,  though  we  are  weeping  still. 

ii. 

He  knows  ! 

Yes,  Jesus  knows  1  just  what  you  cannot 
tell 

He  understands  so  well  ! 
The  silence  of  the  heart  is  heard, 
He  does  not  need  a  single  word, 

He  thinks  of  you  ; 
He  watcheth,  and  He  careth  too, 
He  pitieth,  He  loveth  !     All  this  flows 

In  one  sweet  word  :   '  He  knows  !' 

in. 

There  shall  be  no  more  pain  !     Not  any 

more  ! 

All  weariness,  all  faint  exhaustion  o'er, 
No   quivering  nerve,  no   aching   uncon- 

fessed, 

No  memory  of  misery  to  cast 
One  shadow  from  the  past 
Upon  the  unshadowed  splendor  of  His 

rest  1 

Beloved  !  God  is  leading  thee  to  this, 
Preparing  thee  for  thy  preparing  bliss. 

IV. 

When  thou  passest  through  the  waters, 

I  will  be  with  thee  ! 
Sure  and  sweet  and  all-sufficient 

Shall  His  Presence  be. 

All  God's  billows  overwhelmed  Him 
In  the  great  Atoning  Day  ; 


IN   MEMORIAM, 


Now  He  onfy  leads  thee  through  them, 
With  thee  all  the  way. 


IN  LOYAL  AND  LOVING 

REMEMBRANCE     OF  H.     R.    H. 

THE  PRINCESS  ALICES 

Two  nations  mourn  1      The  same  great 

grief  is  known 

By  human  hearts  on  either  side  the  sea, 
Mourning  with  those  who  yet  must  mourn 

alone 
Upon  the  silent  height  where  only  He 


i  Written  to  accompany  a  memorial  wreath 
of  white  roses  and  palm  leaves,  painted  by  the 
Baroness  Helga  von  Cramm. 


Can   come   and   whisper  comfort,    who 

hath  worn 
The  lonely  diadem  of  cruel  thorn. 

Mourning  for  her  whose  royal  love  hath 

shown 

Secrets  of  comfort  in  the  darkest  days  ; 
Who,  like  her  Master,   stooping  from  a 

throne 
The  suffering  or  the  lost  could  heal  or 

raise; 
Leaving,    like   Him,   example   pure  and 

bright, 
For  court  or  cottage  home  a  starry  light. 

Two  nations  mourn  ;  a  hand  from  each 

would  lay 
Fair  flowers  and  simple  verse  upon  her 

tomb  to-day. 


UNDER   THE   SURFACE. 

"MAN'S     GOINGS     ARE    OF   THE     LORD ;     HOW   CAN   A   MAN    THEN    UNDERSTAND    HIS    OWN 

WAY?" — Prov.  xx.  24. 


PRELUDE. 

TAKE  it,  O  Father  !     This  new  book  be 

Thine, 

Filled  only  with  Thy  teachings,  only  filled 
For  Thee,  and  for  the  pilgrims  to  Thy 

home. 

I  know  not  what  bright  impulses  of  song 
May  come  upon  my  waiting  soul,  nor 

when  : 

Or  whether  years  of  silence  yet  may  fall 
In  still  parenthesis  as  once  before  ; 
Or  whether  tighter  tension  must  be  laid 
By  Thy  unerring  Hand,  that  so  the  tone 
May  be  more  true  to  that  immortal  key 
Which  reaches  loneliest  depths  of  human 

heart 
With  echoes  from  Thine  own.     I  would 

not  shrink 

From  suffering,  if  I  may  but  sing  for  Thee. 
Father,  Thou  knowest"  how  this  gift  hath 

seemed 
Thine  own    direct  sweet  answer  to   the 

prayer 

For  peace  and  patience  in  the  silent  grief 
Thy  Hand,  Thine  own,  has  portioned 

out  for  me. 
And  I  have  felt  Thy  call,  not  loud,  but 

clear, 

To  praise  Thee  with  my  song,  as,  it  maybe, 
I  had  not  done  had  all  my  heart's  desire 
Been  granted  me. 


Thou  knowest  how  (so  often)  I  have  laid 
An  aching  heart  upon  Thy  heart  of  love, 
And  wept  out  all  my  sorrow,  till  at  last 
Thou  gavest  Thy  beloved  sleep.   And  then 
Came  singing  in  the  morning  some  glad 

thought 

That,  wafted  over  land  and  sea,  has  put 
New  songs  in  silent  mouths,  and  come 

again 

With  harvest  of  rejoicing  back  to  me. 
Let  not  Thy  blessing  fail !    I  long  for  this, 
I  ask  it  for  the  sake  of  Him  whose  Name 
Is  my  sure  plea.     O  send   it,    gracious 

Lord! 

As  Thou  hast  spared  me  to  begin  to-day 
The  seventh  small  volume  of  these  leaves 

of  life, 

So  let  a  sevenfold  blessing  rest  upon 
All  that  shall  fill  these  pages.     Give  me 

thoughts, 
But  quicken  them  with  power  ;  give  me 

words, 
But  wing  them  with  Thy  love  ;  give  music 

too, 

But  let  it  ring  all  beautiful  and  sweet 
With  holiness ;  yea,  give  to  me,  if  such 
Thy  holy  will,  far  better  and  far  more 
Than  heretofore,  but  only  add  this  gift, 
Without  which  all  were  worthless  and  in 

vain, 
Thy  Blessing.      So    the   glory  and   the 

praise 

Shall  all  be  Thine  for  evermore.     Amen. 

191 


UNDER  THE   SURFACE. 


UNDER  THE  SURFACE. 

i. 
ON  the  surface,  foam  and  roar, 

Restless  heave  and  passionate  dash, 
Shingle  rattle  along  the  shore, 

Gathering  boom  and  thundering  crash. 

Under  the  surface,  soft  green  light, 

A  hush  of  peace  and  an  endless  calm, 

Winds  and  waves  from  a  choral  height, 
Falling  sweet  as  a  far-off  palm. 

On  the  surface,  swell  and  swirl, 

Tossing  weed  and  drifting  waif, 
Broken  spars  that  the  mad  waves  whirl, 
Where    wreck-watching     rocks    they 
chafe. 

Under  the  surface,  loveliest  forms, 
Feathery  fronds  with  crimson  curl, 

Treasures  too  deep  for  the  raid  of  storms, 
Delicate  coral  and  hidden  pearl. 

ii. 

On  the  surface,  lilies  white, 

A  painted  skiif  with  a  singing  crew, 
Sky-reflections  soft  and  bright, 

Tremulous  crimson,  gold  and  blue. 

Under  the  surface,  life  in  death, 
Slimy  tangle  and  oozy  moans, 

Creeping  things  with  watery  breath, 
Blackening  roots  and  whitening  bones. 

On  the  surface,  a  shining  reach, 

A  crystal  couch  for  the   moonbeams' 
rest, 

Starry  ripples  along  the  beach, 
Sunset  songs  from  the  breezy  west. 

Under  the  surface,  glooms  and  fears, 
Treacherous  currents  swift  and  strong, 

Deafening  rush  in  the  drowning  ears  : 
Have  ye  rightly  read  my  song  ? 


A  UTOBIOGRAPHY. 

AUTOBIOGRAPHY  !     So  you  say, 
So  do  I  not  believe  ! 

For  no  men  or  women  that  live  to-day, 
Be  they  as  good  or  as  bad  as  they  may, 

Ever  would  dare  to  leave 
In  faintest  pencil  or  boldest  ink 
All  they  truly  and  really  think, 
What  they  have  said  and  what  they  have 

done, 
What  they  have  lived  and  what  they  have 

felt, 

Under  the  stars  or  under  the  sun. 
At  the  touch  of  a  pen  the  dewdrops  melt, 
And  the  jewels  are  lost  in  the  grass, 
Though  you  count  the  blades  as  you 

pass. 

At  the  touch  of  a  pen  the  lightning  is  fixed, 
An  innocent  streak  on  a  broken  cloud  ; 
And  the  thunder  that  pealed  so  fierce 

and  loud, 
With  musical  echo  is  softly  mixed. 

Autobiography  ?     No  1 
It  never  was  written  yet,  I  trow. 
Grant  that  they  try  ! 
Still  they  must  fail  1 
Words  are  too  pale 
For  the  fervor  and  glow  of  the  lava-flow. 

Can  they  paint  the  flash  of  an  eye  ? 
How  much  less  the  flash  of  a  heart, 
Or  its  delicate  ripple  and  glitter  and  gleam, 
Swift  and  sparkling,  suddenly  darkling, 
Crimson  and  gold-tints,  exquisite  soul-tints, 
Changing    like    dawn-flush   touching   a 
dream  ! 

Where  is  the  art 

That  shall  give  the  play  of  blending  lights 
From  the  porphyry  rock  on  the  pool  below? 
Or  the  bird-shadow  traced  on  the  sunlit 

heights 
Of  golden  rose  and  snow  ? 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 


193 


You  say  'tis  a  fact  that  the  books  exist, 
Printed  and  published  in  Mudie's  list, 

Some  in  two  volumes  and  some  in  one — 
Autobiographies  plenty.     But  look  ! 

I  will  tell  you  what  is  done 

By  the  writers,  confidentially  ! 
They  cut  little  pieces  out  of  their  lives 

And  join  them  together, 
Making  them  up  as  a  readable  book, 

And  call  it  an  autobiography, 
Though  little  enough  of  the  life  survives. 

What  if  we  went  in  the  sweet  May  weather 
To  a  wood  that  I  know  which  hangs  on  a 

hill, 

And  reaches  down  to  a  tinkling  brook, 
That  sings  the  flowers  to  sleep  at  night, 
And  calls  them  again  with  the  earliest  light. 
Under  the  delicate  flush  of  green, 

Hardly  shading  the  bank  below, 
Pale  anemones  peep  between 
The  mossy  stumps  where  the  violets  grow  ; 
Wide  clouds  of  bluebells  stretch  away, 

And  primrose  constellations  rise, — 
Turn  where  we  may, 

Some  new  loveliness  meets  our  eyes. 
The  first  white  butterflies  flit  around, 
Bees  are  murmuring  close  to  the  ground, 

The  cuckoo's  happy  shout  is  heard. 
Hark  again  ! 

Was  it  echo,  or  was  it  bird  ? 

All  the  air  was  full  of  song, 
A  carolling  chorus  around  and  above  ; 
From  the  wood-pigeon's  call  so   soft   and 

long, 

To  merriest  twitter  and  marvellous  trill, 
Every  one  sings  at  his  own  sweet  will, 
True  to  the  key-note  of  joyous  love. 

Well,  it  is  lovely  1  is  it  not  ? 

But  we  must  not  stay  on  the  fairy  spot, 
So  we  gather  a  nosegay  with  care  : 
A  primrose  here  and  a  bluebell  there, 
13 


And  something  that  we  have  never  seen, 

Probably  therefore  a  specimen  rare  ; 
Stitchwort,  with  stem  of  transparent  green, 
The  white- veined  woodsorrel,  and  a  spray 

Of  tender-leaved  and  budding  May. 
We  carry  home  the  fragrant  load 
In  a  close,  warm  hand  by  a  dusty  road  ; 
The  sun  grows  hotter  every  hour  '; 
Already  the  woodsorrel  pines  for  the  shade. 

We  watch  it  fade, 

And  throw  away  the  fair  little  flower  ; 
We  forgot  that  it  could  not  last  an  hour 
Away  from  the  cool  moss  where  it  grows. 
Then  the  stitch  worts  droop  and  close  ; 
There  is  nothing  to  show  but  a  tangle  of 

green, 
For  the  white-rayed  stars  will  no  more  be 

seen. 

Then  the  anemones,  can  they  survive  ? 
Even  now  they  are  hardly  alive. 
Ha  !  where  is  it,  our  unknown  spray  ? 

Dropped  on  the  way  ! 
Perhaps  we  shall  never  find  one  again. 
At  last  we  come  in  with  the  few  that  are 

left, 

Of  freshness  and  fragrance  bereft ; 
A  sorry  display. 
Now,  do  we  say, 

'  Here  is  the  wood  where  we  rambled  to- 
day; 

See,  we  have  brought  it  to  you ; 
Believe  us,  indeed  it  is  true. 
This  is  the  wood  ! '  do  we  say  ? 

So  much  for  the  bright  and  pleasant  side. 
There  is  another.     We  did  not  bring 
All  that  was  hidden  under  the  wing 
Of  the  radiant-plumaged  Spring. 

We  never  tried 

To  spy,  or  watch,  or  away  to  bear, 
Much  that  was  just  as  truly  there. 


194 


UNDER  THE   SURFACE. 


What  have  we  seen  ? 
Hush,  ah,  hush  ! 

Curled  and  withered  fern  between, 
And  dead  leaves  under  the  living  green 
Thick  and  damp.     A  clammy  feather, 
All  that  remains  of  a  singing  thrush 
Killed  by  a  weasel  long  ago, 
In  the  hungry  winter  weather. 
Nettles  in  unfriendly  row, 
And  last  year's  brambles,  sharp  and  brown, 
Grimly  guarding  a  hawthorn  crown. 
A  pale  leaf  trying  to  reach  the  light 
By  a  long  weak  stem,  but  smothered  down, 
Dying  in  darkness,  with  none  to  see. 
The  rotting  trunk  of  a  willow  tree, 
Leafless,  ready  to  fall  from  the  bank  ; 
A  poisonous  fungus,  cold  and  white, 
And  a  hemlock  growing  strong  and  rank. 
A  tuft  of  fur  and  a  ruddy  stain, 
Where  a  wounded  hare  has  escaped  the 

snare, 

Only  perhaps  to  be  caught  again. 
No  specimens  we  bring  of  these, 
Lest  they  should  disturb  our  ease, 
And  spoil  the  story  of  the  May, 
And  make  you  think  our  holiday 
Was  far  less  pleasant  than  we  say. 

Ah  no  !     We  write  our  lives  indeed, 
But  in  a  cipher  none  can  read, 
Except  the  author.     He  may  pore 
The  life-accumulating  lore 

For  evermore, 

And  find  the  records  strange  and  true, 
Bring  wisdom  old  and  new. 
But  though  he  break  the  seal, 
No  power  has  he  to  give  the  key, 

No  license  to  reveal. 
We  wait  the  all-declaring  day, 
When  love  shall  know  as  it  is  known. 
Till  then,  the  secrets  of  our  lives  are  ours 
and  God's  alone. 


CO MP  ENS  A  TION. 

0  THE  compensating  springs  !  O  the 
balance-wheels  of  life, 

bidden  away  in  the  workings  under  the 
seeming  strife  1 

lowing  the  fret  and  the  friction,  weight- 
ing the  whirl  and  the  force, 

Evolving  the  truest  power  from  each 
unconscious  source. 

How  shall  we  gauge  the  whole,  who  can 
only  guess  a  part  ? 

How  can  we  read  the  life,  when  we  can- 
not spell  the  heart  ? 

How  shall  we  measure  another,  we  who 
can  never  know 

From  the  juttings  above  the  surface  the 
depth  of  the  vein  below  ? 

Even  our  present  way  is  known  to  our- 
selves alone, 

Height  and  abyss  and  torrent,  flower  and 
thorn  and  stone  ; 

But  we  gaze  on  another's  path  as  a  far- 
off  mountain  scene, 

Scanning  the  outlined  hills,  but  never 
the  vales  between. 

How  shall  we  judge  their  present,  we  who 

have  never  seen 
That  which   is   past  for  ever,  and   that 

which  might  have  been  ? 
Measuring  by  ourselves,    unwise  indeed 

are  we, 
Measuring  what  we  know  by  what  we  can 

hardly  see. 

Ah  !  if  we  knew  it  all,  we  should  surely 

understand 
That  the  balance  of  sorrow    and  joy  is 

held  with  an  even  hand, 


COMPENSATION. 


195 


That   the  scale  of  success  or  loss  shall 

never  overflow, 
And  that  compensation  is  twined  with  the 

lot  of  high  and  low. 

The  easy  path  in  the  lowland  hath  little 
of  grand  or  new, 

But  a  toilsome  ascent  leads  on  to  a  wide 
and  glorious  view  ; 

Peopled  and  warm  is  the  valley,  lonely 
and  chill  the  height, 

But  the  peak  that  is  nearer  the  storm- 
cloud  is  nearer  the  stars  of  light. 

Launch  on  the  foaming  stream  that  bears 

you  along  like  a  dart, — 
There  is  danger  of  rapid  and  rock,  there 

is  tension  of  muscle  and  heart ; 
Glide  on  the  easy  current,   monotonous, 

calm,  and  slow, 
You  are  spared  the  quiver  and  strain  in 

the  safe  and  quiet  flow. 

O  the  sweetness  that  dwells  in  a  harp  of 
many  strings, 

While  each,  all  vocal  with  love,  in  tune- 
ful harmony  rings ! 

But  O,  the  wail  and  the  discord,  when 
one  and  another  is  rent 

Tensionless,  broken,  or  lost,  from  the 
cherished  instrument. 

For  rapture  of  love  is  linked  with   the 

pain  or  fear  of  loss, 
And  the  hand  that  takes  the  crown  must 

ache  with  many  a  cross  ; 
Yet  he   who  hath   never  a   conflict  hath 

never  a  victor's  palm, 
And  only  the  toilers  know  the  sweetness 

of  rest  and  calm. 


Only  between  the  storms  can  the  Alpine 
traveller  know 

Transcendent  glory  of  clearness,  marvels 
of  gleam  and  glow  ; 

Had  he  the  brightness  unbroken  of  cloud- 
less summer  days, 

This  had  been  dimmed  by  the  dust  and 
the  veil  of  a  brooding  haze. 

Who  would  dare  the  choice,  neither  or  both 

to  know, 
The  finest  quiver  of  joy  or  the  agony-thrill 

of  woe  ? 
Never  the  exquisite  pain,   then  never  the 

exquisite  bliss, 
For  the  heart  that  is  dull  to  that  can  never 

be  strung  to  this. 

Great  is  the  peril  or  toil   if  the  glory  or 

gain  be  great ; 
Never  an  earthly  gift  without  responsible 

weight ; 
Never  a  treasure  without  a  following  shade 

of  care  ; 
Never  a  power  without  the  lurk  of  a  subtle 

snare. 

For  the  swift  is  not  the  safe,  and  the  sweet 

is  not  the  strong  ; 
The  smooth  is  not  the  short,  and  the  keen 

is  not  the  long ; 
The  much  is  not  the  most,  and  the  wide  is 

not  the  deep ; 
And  the  flow  is  never  a  spring,  when  the 

ebb  is  only  neap. 

Then  hush  !  oh,  hush  !  for  the  Father 
knows  what  thou  knowest  not, 

The  need  and  the  thorn  and  the  shadow 
linked  with  the  fairest  lot ; 


196 


UNDER   THE   SURFACE. 


Knows  the  wisest  exemption  from  many  an 

unseen  snare, 
Knows  what  will  keep  thee  nearest,  knows 

what  thou  could'st  not  bear. 

Hush  !  oh,  hush  !  for  the  Father  portion- 

eth  as  He  will, 
To  all   His  beloved  children,    and  shall 

they  not  be  still  ? 
Is  not  His  will  the  wisest,  is  not  His  choice 

the  best  ? 
And  in  perfect  acquiescence  is  there  not 

perfect  rest  ? 

Hush  !  oh,  hush  !  for  the  Father,   whose 

ways  are  true  and  just, 
Knoweth  and  careth  and  loveth,  and  waits 

for  thy  perfect  trust ; 
The  cup  He  is  slowly  filling  shall  soon  be 

full  to  the  brim, 
And  infinite  compensations  for  ever  be 

found  in  Him. 

Hush  I  oh,  hush  !  for  the  Father  hath  ful- 
ness of  joy  in  store, 

Treasures  of  power  and  wisdom,  and 
pleasures  for  evermore  ; 

Blessing  and  honor  and  glory,  endless,  in- 
finite bliss  ; — 

Child  of  His  love  and  His  choice,  oh, 
canst  thou  not  wait  for  this  ? 


THE  MOONLIGHT  SONATA. 
INTRODUCTION. 

THE  ills  we  see, — 

The  mysteries  of  sorrow  deep  and  long, 
The  dark  enigmas  of  permitted  wrong, 

Have  all  one  key : 


This  strange,  sad  world  is  but  our  Father's 

school ; 
All   chance  and   change  His  love  shall 

grandly  overrule. 

How  sweet  to  know 
The  trials  which  we  cannot  comprehend 
Have  each  their  own  divinely-purposed 
end! 

He  traineth  so 

For  higher  learning,  ever  onward  reach- 
ing 

For  fuller  knowledge  yet,  and  His  own 
deeper  teaching. 

He  traineth  thus 
That  we  may  teach  the  lessons  we  are 

taught  ; 

That  younger  learners  may  be  further 
brought, 

Led  on  by  us  : 

Well  may  we  wait,  or  toil,  or  suffer  long, 
For  His  dear  service  so  to  be  made  fit  and 
strong. 

He  traineth  so 
That  we  may  shine  for  Him  in  this  dark 

world, 

And  bear  His  standard  dauntlessly  un- 
furled : 

That  we  may  show 
His   praise,  by  lives  that  mirror  back 

His  love, — 

His   witnesses   on  earth,  as  He  is   ours 
above. 

Nor  only  here 
The   rich  result  of  all  our  God  doth 

teach 

His   scholars,    slow  at  best,   until   we 
reach 

A  nobler  sphere : 


THE  MOONLIGHT   SONATA. 


197 


Then,  not  till  then,  our  training  is  com- 
plete, 

And  the  true  life  begins  for  which  He 
made  us  meet 

Are  children  trained 
Only  that  they  may  reach  some  higher 

class  ? 

Only  for  some  few  school-room  years 
that  pass 

Till  growth  is  gained  ? 
Is  it  not  rather  for  the  years  beyond 
To  which  the  father  looks  with  hopes  so 
fair  and  fond  ? 

Bold  thought,  flash  on 
Into  the  far  depths  of  Eternity  ; 
When  Time  shall  be  a  faint  star-memory, 

So  long,  long  gone  ! 
Only  not  lost  to  our  immortal  sight, 
Because  it  ever  bears  Redemption's  quench- 
less light. 

Flash  on,  and  stand 
Among  thy  bright  companions, — spirits 

blest, 
Inhabiting  through  ages  of  glad  rest 

The  Shining  Land  ! 
Each   singing   bliss  into   each   other's 

hearts, — 

Outpouring   mighty  joy  that  God's   full 
hand  imparts. 

If  sweet  below 
To  minister  to  those  whom  God  doth 

love, 
What  will  it  be  to  minister  above  ! 

His  praise  to  show 
In  some  new  strain  amid  the  ransomed 

choir, 

To  touch  their  joy  and  love  with  note  of 
living  fire ; 


With  perfect  praise, 

With  interchange  of  rapturous  revelation 
From  Christ  Himself,  the  burning  ado- 
ration 

Yet  higher  to  raise, 
For  ever  and  for  ever  so  to  bring 
More  glory  and  still  more  to  Him,  our 
gracious  King. 

Look  on  to  this 
Through  all  perplexities  of  grief  and 

strife, — 
To  this,  thy  true  maturity  of  life, 

Thy  coming  bliss  ; 
That  such  high  gifts  thy  future  dower 

may  be, 

And  for  such  service  high  thy  God  pre- 
pareth  thee. 

What  though  to-day 
Thou  canst  not  trace  at  all  the  hidden 

reason 

For  His  strange  dealings  through  the 
trial-season, — 

Trust  and  obey  : 
And,  like  the  child  whose  story  follows 

here, 

In  after  life  and  light  all  shall  be  plain  and 
clear. 


ALICE'S  STORY. 

PART    I. 

The  firelight  softly  glanced  upon 
Dark  braids  and  sunny  curls, 
Where,  in  a  many-windowed  room, 
Yet  dim  with  late  November  gloom, 
Were  busy  groups  of  girls. 

Some  sat  apart  to  learn  alone ; 
Some  studied  side  by  side ; 


198 


UNDER   THE   SURFACE. 


Some  gathered  round  a  master's  chair 
In  reverent  silence  ;  others  there 
For  readiest  answer  tried. 

For  one  young  name  a  summons  came, 

And  Alice  quickly  rose  : 
The  rapid  pen  aside  is  laid  ; 
The  call  once  heard  must  be  obeyed 

At  once, — as  well  she  knows. 

Yet  with  no  joyous  step  or  smile 

She  hastens  now  away, 
A  teacher's  earnest  look  to  meet, 
Whose  hand  is  filled  with  music  sweet, 

As  hers  shall  be  one  day. 

Beside  her  at  the  instrument 

A  place  her  teacher  takes, 
With  patient  eye,  yet  keenest  ear  ; 
And  Alice  knows  that  he  will  hear 

The  slightest  fault  she  makes. 

Oh,  such  a  music-task  as  this 

Was  never  hers  before  ! 
So  long  and  hard,  so  strange  and  stern, — 
A  piece  she  thinks  she  cannot  learn, 

Though  practised  o'er  and  o'er. 

It  is  not  beautiful  to  her, — 

She  cannot  grasp  the  whole  : 
The    Master's    thought   was    great    and 

deep,— 
A  mighty  storm,  to  seize  and  sweep 

The  wind-harp  of  the  soul. 

She  only  plays  it  note  by  note, 

With  undeveloped  heart; 
She  does  not  glimpse  the  splendor  through 
Each  chord,  so  difficult  and  new, 

Of  veiled  and  varied  art. 

Unwonted  beat  and  weird  repeat 
She  cannot  understand  ; 


She  stumbles  on  with  clouded  brow, 

Her  cheek  is  flushed,  and  aching  now 
The  weary  little  hand. 

She  looked  up  in  her  teacher's  face  ; 

Tears  were  not  far  away  ; 
Must  I  go  on  till  it  is  done  ? 
Oh,  let  me  change  it,  sir,  for  one 

That  I  can  better  play. 

'  I  cannot  make  it  beautiful, — 

It  has  no  tune  to  sing  ; 
And  when  I  am  at  home,  I  fear 
My  friends  will  never  care  to  hear 

This  long  and  dreary  thing. ' 

He  said,  'If  you  might  freely  choose, 
My  child,  what  would  you  learn  ? ' 
Oh,    I   would    have   the    "Shower    of 

Pearls," 

Or  "Soldiers'  March,"  like  other  girls, 
And  quick  approval  earn  ; 

'  Or  sweet  Italian  melodies, 

With  brilliant  run  and  shake  : 
If  you  would  only  give  me  such, 
I  think  that  I  could  please  you  much, — 
Such  progress  I  should  make/ 

Learn  this,  and  it  will  please  me  more, ' 
Said  he,  with  kindest  voice  : 
And  though  'tis  now  so  hard  to  play, 
Trust  me,  you  will  be  glad  some  day 
That  I  have  ruled  your  choice. ' 

Tears  trembled  on  the  lash,  and  now 

His  face  she  could  not  see  ; 
Once  more  she  pleaded,  as  they  fell, 
'But  I  shall  never  play  it  well  : 

It  is  too  hard  for  me  ! ' 


THE  MOONLIGHT   SONATA. 


199 


'One  thing  I  grant/  he  said  :   'that  you 

May  fully,  freely  tell 
Your  father,  who  is  kind  and  wise  : 
And,  Alice,  what  he  shall  advise, 

Say,  will  it  not  be  well  ?' 

Again  she  came,  and  stumblingly 

The  hard  sonata  played  : 
Another  week  had  passed  away, 
With  toilsome  practice  every  day, 

Yet  small  the  progress  made. 

Her  father's  writing,  bold  and  clear, 

Lay  on  the  instrument : 
1  Your  letter  safely  came  to  me, 
And  now  shall  answer  lovingly 

To  my  dear  child  be  sent. 

'  The  hardest  gained  is  best  retained  ; 

You  learn  not  for  to-day  : 
I  cannot  grant  your  fond  request ; 
Your  teacher  certainly  knows  best, — 

So  trust  him  and  obey.  * 

The  teacher  spoke  ;  she  listened  well, 

No  word  of  his  to  miss  : 
'  Alice,  I  want  to  make  of  you 
An  artist,  noble,  high,  and  true  ; 

And  no  light  thing  is  this. 

'  There's  happier,  better  work  in  store 

Than  merry  tunes  to  play  : 

You  have  a  mission  to  fulfil, — 

You  do  not  know  it ;  but  I  will 

Prepare  you  as  I  may. 

'  Will  you  believe  that  I  know  best, 

And  persevere,  my  child  ? ' 
She  answered,  with  a  little  sigh, 
'  Yes  :  I  will  trust,  and  I  will  try  ; 

And  then  her  teacher  smiled. 


PART   II. 

Long  has  the  school  been  left  behind, 

For  years  have  passed  away  : 
We  find  her  now  where  evening  light 
Fades  not  into  the  darksome  night, 

But  melts  into  the  day. 

There,  in  an  arched  and  lofty  room, 

She  stands,  in  fair  white  dress ; 
Where  grace  and  color  and  sweet  sound 
Combine  and  cluster  all  around, 
And  rarest  taste  express. 

'Tis  Alice  still,  but  woman  grown 

In  hand  and  head  and  heart  : 
And  those  who  now  around  her  throng 
Are  skilled  in  music  and  in  song, 
In  learning  and  in  art 

It  was  an  evening  of  delight 

To  be  remembered  long, 
With  many  a  reach  of  vivid  thought, 
And  many  a  vision  artist-wrought, 
And  —  crown     of    all     that    friendship 
brought — 

The  eloquence  of  song. 

The  North  is  bright,  with  lingering  light 

To  Northern  summers  given, — 
A  tender  loveliness  that  stays 
When  twilight  falls  upon  the  days, 
As  silence  falls  in  heaven. 

'  Now,  Alice  :  now  the  time  is  come  ! 

Sweet  music  you  have  poured ; 
But,  in  this  gentle  twilight  fall, 
Give  now  the  very  best  of  all 

That  in  your  heart  is  stored. 

'  Give  now  the  Master's  masterpiece  ; 
All  silent  we  will  be  : 


200 


UNDER  THE   SURFACE. 


And  you  shall  stir  our  inmost  souls, 
While,  like  a  fiery  river,  rolls 
Beethoven's  harmony/ 

An  instrument  was  by  her  side,— 

A  new  and  glad  possession, 
Whose  perfect  answering  conveyed 
Each  delicate  and  subtle  shade 

Of  varying  expression. 

She  needed  no  reminding  score, 

For  memory  was  true  : 
And  what  is  learnt  in  childish  years, 
Deep  graven  on  the  mind  appears 

Our  life's  whole  journey  through. 

And  so  she  only  had  to  let 

The  long-known  music  flow 
From  happy  heart  and  steady  hand, 
As  with  a  magic  flame-command, 
Enkindling  in  the  listening  band 

A  full  responsive  glow. 

Through  shade  more  beautiful  than  light, 
Through  hush  of  softest  word, 

Through  calm  and  silence,  still  and  deep 

As  angel-love  or  seraph  sleep, 
The  opening  notes  were  heard. 


THE  SONATA. 

PART  i.   (ADAGIO.) 

Soft  and  slow, 
Ever  a  gentle  underflow  ; 

Soft  and  slow, 

Murmuring  peacefully  on  below. 
A  twilight  song  ;  while  the  shadows  sleep 

Dusk  and  deep, 
Over  the  fountain,  under  the  fern, 

Solemn  and  still  : 


Waiting  for  moonlight  over  the  hill 
To  touch  the  bend  of  the  lulling  burn, 

And  make  it  show 

As  a  diamond  bow, 
Shooting  arrows  of  glancing  light 

In  luminous  flight 
To  the  gloomy  head  of  the  waterfall ; 

Again  to  break, 

In  silvery  flake, 
Under  the  wild  and  grim  rock-wall. 
A  twilight  song,  a  song  of  love, 
Softer  than  nightingale,  sweeter  than  dove  ; 
Loving  and  longing,  loving  and  yearning, 
With  a  hidden  flow  of  electric  burning 

Ever  returning  ; 
Melting  again  in  calm  repeat, 

Slow  and  sweet, 

Sweet  and  slow  ; 
While  ever  the  gentle  underflow 
Murmurs  lovingly  on  below, 
In  notes  that  seem  to  come  from  far, — 

From  the  setting  star 

In  the  paling  west, 

Faint  and  more  faint, 
Like  the  parting  hymn  of  a  dying  saint 

Sinking  to  rest. 


A  moment  ofdeep  hush  ;  then  wakes  again 
With  sudden  sparkle  of  delight, — a  new 
and  joyous  strain. 

PART  ii. — (ALLEGRETTO.) 

Awake  !  awake ! 

For  life  is  sweet : 
Awake  !  awake  ! 

New  hopes  to  greet 
The  shadows  are  fleeting, 

The  substance  is  sure  ; 
The  joys  thou  art  meeting 

Shall  ever  endure. 


"WHEN  THF.  GLOKY  DAZZLED  THEIR  MORTAL  SIGHT." 


Page  1 68. 


THE   MOONLIGHT   SONATA. 


201 


Awake  !  awake  ! 

For  twilight  now 
That  veiled  the  lake 

Where  dark  woods  bow, 
In  moonlight  resplendent 

Is  passing  away  ; 
For  brightness  ascendant 
Turns  night  into  day. 
Oh,  listen  !  yet  listen  ! 
The  moonlight  song 
Where  still  waters  glisten 

Is  floating  along  : 
A  melodious  ripple  of  silver  sound 
In  golden  rhythm  of  light-bars  bound, 
Linked  with  the  loveliness  all  around. 
A  song  of  hope, 

That  soars  beyond 
The  farthest  scope 

Of  a  vision  fond  ; 
While   the   loneliest  silence    of   solemn 

night, 
And   the   depth  of  shadow  beneath    our 

feet, 

Only  make  the  song  more  sweet, — 
Only  make  the  sacred  light 
Yet  more  tender,  yet  more  bright  ; 
And  song  and  radiance  both  entwining 
In   radiant  singing  and  musical  shining 

Float  on  and  on 
Till  the  night  is  gone 
Ever  for  rest 
Far  too  blest. 
Then  wake,  then  wake 

From  slumberous  leisure ! 
Arise  and  take 

Thy  truest  pleasure  ! 
A  life  is  before  thee  which  cannot  decay 
A  glimpse  and  an  echo  are  given  to-day 
Of  glory  and  music  not  far  away. 
Take  the  bliss  that  is  offered  thee  : 
Hope  on,  hope  ever,  and  thou  shalt  be 
Blest  for  aye  ! 


Once  more  a  pause  is  made  ; 
While  deeper  still  the  silence^,  deeper  yet 
the  shade. 

PART  in.  — (PRESTO  AGITATO.  ) 
Now  in  awful  tempest  swelling, 
Fallen  hosts  anew  rebelling, 
Battle  shout  and  lava  torrent 
Mingle  in  a  strife  abhorrent. 
Fiery  cataracts  are  leaping, 
Passion-driven  stars  are  sweeping 
In  a  labyrinth  of  courses  ; 
Space  is  torn  with  clashing  forces  : 
'Tis  a  fearful  new  rehearsal 
Of  old  chaos  universal. 

Hush  !    and   hark !    and   hear  aright, 

And  you  shall  know 

It  is  not  so  ! 

'Tis  the  roar  of  chariot  wheels, 
That  nothing  hinders,  nothing  bars, 
Whose  flint-sparkles  are  the  stars 

Flashing  bright ; 
And  the  mighty  thunder-peals 
Are  the  trampling  of  its  steeds. 

On  it  speeds, 

Crushing  wrongs  like  river-reeds, 
By  the  grandly  simple  might 

Of  Eternal  Right. 

'Tis  a  song — a  battle  song — 

And  a  shout  of  victory, 
Darting  through  the  conflict  strong 

Terror  to  the  enemy. 
Rising,  while  the  moon  is  setting 

That  beheld  the  struggle  sore  ; 
Rising  still,  while  not  forgetting 

That  the  battle  is  not  o'er  ; 
Rising,  while  the  day  is  breaking 

O'er  the  hills,  serene  and  strong ; 
Rising,  while  the  birds  are  waking 

With  their  myriad-throated  song ; 


2O2 


UNDER  THE   SURFACE. 


Rising  !  yet  with  much  to  do 
Ere  the  strife  be  ended  ! 
For  loud  confusion 
And  wild  delusion 

Are  rampant  still,  and  still  are  blended 
With    the    song    of    triumph    bursting 
through. 

It  rises  to  fall  again  ; 
Falls  but  to  rise  ; 
Hushed,  but  to  call  again 

Loud  to  the  skies. 
Resounding  like  thunder 
In  conquering  march, 
That  reverberates  under 
The  resonant  arch. 

Sternly  triumphant  o'er  wrongful  might, 
In   whirlwind   of  battle,    in   tempest   of 
fight, 

See  the  singers  before  us, 
In  warrior  chorus, 
Never  despairing, 
Never  yielding  : 
Ever  preparing 

And  faithfully  wielding 
Weapons  kept  bright, 
And  armor  of  light ; 

Shattering  barriers  that  seemed  adaman- 
tine, 

Spurning  the  depth  and  scaling  the  height 
While  over  all  the  turmoil  and  fray 
Shines,  in  the  dawn  that  heralds  the  day 
Star-lit,  a  crown  amaranthine. 

Yea  :  a  mighty  song, 
Of  joy  and  triumph  strong  ; 
Magnificent  in  madness, 
And  glorious  in  gladness. 
Every  obstacle  is  hurled 
To  an  infinite  abyss  ; 
Giant  standards  are  unfurled, — 


Banners  of  a  far-off  world 
Calling  followers  from  this ; 
Calling,  calling  :  shall  it  be 
To  noble  failure  and  heroic  death  ? 
Lifted  with  a  parting  breath, 
Is  the  shout  of  victory 

Failing  fast  ? 
Is  the  only  crown  at  last 
Death— death  ? 

No! 

'Tis  not  so  ! 
For  light  and  life 
End  the  war  and  crown  the  strife. 
Joy  to  the  faithful  one  full  shall  be  given  ! 
Rising  in  splendor  that  never  shall  set, 
The  morning  of  triumph  shall  dawn  on 

thee  yet 

When  gladness  and  love  for  ever  have  met 
In  heaven. 


She  ended.     For  a  little  space 

The  music  still  seemed  swelling ; 
As  it  were  too  sweet  and  rare 
Like  common  sound  to  leave  the  air 
As  a  deserted  dwelling. 

Then,  through  the  flow  of  loving  thanks 

And  murmuring  delight, 
And  marvel  at  the  Master's  art, 
One  rich  approval  reached  her  heart 

More  than  all  else  that  night. 

One  who  had  also  freely  brought 

His  own  high  gift  of  song, 
Drew  near  and  spoke  :  '  For  many  a  year 
That    marvellous   work  has  been   most 
dear, — 

Known,  loved,  and  studied  long. 

'  I  own,  like  you,  allegiance  true, 
And  deemed  my  insight  clear ; 


THE   SPIRITUALITY   OF  GOD. 


203 


But  never  guessed  until  to-night 
The  depths  of  meaning  and  the  might 
Of  what  you  rendered  here. 

'  The  Master  has  been  much  to  me  ; 
But  more  than  ever  now  I  see 

That  there  is  none  above  him. 
You  have  been  his  interpreter : 
To  you  it  has  been  given  to  stir 

The  souls  of  all  who  love  him. ' 

Then  swift  up-flashed  a  memory, — 

A  long-forgotten  day ; 
A  memory  of  tears  once  shed, 
Of  aching  hand  and  puzzled  head, 
And  of  the  father's  word  that  said, 

'Trust  and  obey/ 

The  lesson  learnt  in  patience  then 

Was  lit  by  love  and  duty  : 
The  toiling  time  was  quickly  past, 
The  trusting  time  had  fleeted  fast, 
And  Alice  understood  at  last 

Its  mysteries  of  beauty. 

O  glad,  perpetual  harvest  time, 

After  the  sowing  days  ! 
For  all  her  life  rich  joy  of  sound, 
And  deep  delight  to  loved  ones  round, 

And  to  the  Master, — praise  ! 

CONCLUSION. 

Ye  read  her  story. 

Take    home    the    lesson    with   a   spirit- 
smile  : 
Darkness  and  mystery  a  little  while, 

Then — light  and  glory, 
And  ministry  'mid  saint  and  seraph  band, 
And  service  of  high  praise  in  the  Eternal 

Land! 


THE  INFINITY  OF  GOD. 

'Too  wonderful  for  me.' — Ps.  cxxxix.  6. 

HOLY  and  Infinite  !     Viewless,  Eternal ! 

Veiled  in  the  glory  that  none  can  sustain, 
None  comprehendeth  Thy  being  supernal, 

Nor  can  the  heaven  of  heavens  contain. 

Holy  and  Infinite  !  limitless,  boundless 
All   Thy  perfections,  and   power,  and 

praise  1 

Ocean  of  mystery  !  awful  and  soundless 
All  Thine  unsearchable  judgments  and 
ways  ! 

King  of  Eternity  !  what  revelation 
Could  the  created  and  finite  sustain, 

But  for  Thy  marvellous  manifestation, 
Godhead   incarnate   in   weakness  and 
pain  1 

Therefore  archangels  and  angels    adore 

Thee, 

Cherubim  wonder,  and  seraphs  admire ; 
Therefore  we  praise  Thee,  rejoicing  before 

Thee, 
Joining  in  rapture  the  heavenly  choir. 

Glorious  in  holiness,  fearful  in  praises, 
Who  shall  not  fear  Thee,  and  who  shall 
not  laud  ? 

Anthems  of  glory  Thy  universe  raises, 
Holy  and  Infinite  !     Father  and  God  1 


THE  SPIRITUALITY  OF  GOD. 

*  God  is  a  Spirit.'— JOHN  iv.  24., 

WHAT  know  we,  Holy  God,  of  Thee, 
Thy  being  and  Thine  essence  pure? 

Too  bright  the  very  mystery 
For  mortal  vision  to  endure. 


204 


UNDER  THE   SURFACE. 


We  only  know  Thy  word  sublime, 
Thou  art  a  Spirit !  Perfect !  One  ! 

Unlimited  by  space  or  time, 

Unknown  but  through  the  eternal  Son. 

By   change  untouched,  by  thought   un- 
traced, 

And  by  created  eye  unseen, 
In  Thy  great  Present  is  embraced 

All  that  shall  be,  all  that  hath  been. 

O  Father  of  our  spirits,  now 

We  seek  Thee  in  our  Saviour's  face ; 
In  truth  and  spirit  we  would  bow, 

And  worship  where  we  cannot  trace. 


THE  ETERNITY  OF  GOD. 

'The   King   eternal,  immortal,   invisible.'— 
i  TIM.  i.  17. 

KING  Eternal  and  Immortal ! 

We,  the  children  of  an  hour, 
Bend  in  lowly  adoration, 
Rise  in  raptured  admiration, 
At  the  whisper  of  Thy  power. 
Myriad  ages  in  Thy  sight 

Are  but  as  the  fleeting  day  ; 
Like  a  vision  of  the  night, 

Worlds  may  rise  and  pass  away. 

All  Thy  glories  are  eternal, 

None  shall  ever  pass  away  ; 
Truth  and  mercy  all  victorious, 
Righteousness  and  love  all  glorious, 
Shine  with  everlasting  ray  : 
All  resplendent,  ere  the  light 

Bade  primeval  darkness  flee  ; 
All  transcendent,  through  the  flight 
Of  eternities  to  be. 


Thou  art  God  from  everlasting, 

And  to  everlasting  art  1 
Ere  the  dawn  of  shadowy  ages, 
Dimly  guessed  by  angel  sages, 
Ere  the  beat  of  seraph-heart  ; 
Thou,  Jehovah,  art  the  same, 

And  Thy  years  shall  have  no  end — 
Changeless  nature,  changeless  name, 
Ever  Father,  God,  and  Friend  ! 


THE.  SOVEREIGNTY  OF  GOD. 

'  Be  still,  and  know  that  I  am  God. ' — Ps.  xlvi.  10. 

GOD  ALMIGHTY  !  King  of  nations  !    earth 

Thy  footstool,  heaven  Thy  throne  ! 
Thine  the  greatness,  power,    and  glory, 

Thine  the  Kingdom,  Lord,  alone  ! 
Life  and  death  are  in  Thy  keeping,  and 

Thy  will  ordaineth  all, 
From  the  armies   of  Thy  heavens  to  an 

unseen  insect's  fall. 

Reigning,      guiding,       all-commanding, 

ruling  myriad  worlds  of  light ; 
Now  exalting,    now   abasing,    none  can 

stay  Thy  hand  of  might ! 
Working  all  things  by  Thy  power,  by  the 

counsel  of  Thy  will, 
Thou  art  God  !  enough  to  know  it,  and 

to  hear  Thy  word  :  '  Be  still  !' 

In   Thy  sovereignty  rejoicing,    we   Thy 

children  bow  and  praise, 
For  we  know  that  kind  and  loving,  just 

and  true,  are  all  Thy  ways. 
While  Thy  heart  of  sovereign  mercy  and 

Thine  arm  of  sovereign  might, 
For  our  great  and  strong  salvation,  in  Thy 

sovereign  grace  unite. 


THINE  IS  THE  POWER. 


2O5 


THE  ESSENTIAL  BLESSED- 
NESS  OF  GOD. 

'Dwelling  in  thp  light.'— I  TIM.  vi.  16. 

O  GLORIOUS  God  and  King, 
O  gracious  Father,  hear 

The  praise  our  hearts  would  bring 
To  Thee,  who,  ever  near, 

Yet  in  eternity  dost  dwell, 

Immortal  and  invisible. 

Around  Thee  all  is  light, 
And  rest  of  perfect  love, 

And  glory  full  and  bright, 
All  human  thought  above  : 

Thyself  the  Fountain  infinite 

Of  all  ineffable  delight. 

O  depth  of  holy  bliss, 

Essential  and  Divine  ! 
What  thought  can  measure  this,  — 

Thy  joy,  Thy  glory,  — Thine  ! 
Yet  such  our  treasure  evermore, 
Thy  fulness  is  Thy  children's  store. 

O  Father,  Thy  great  grace 
We  magnify  and  praise  ; 

Called  to  that  blessed  place, 

With  Thee  through  endless  days 

Thy  joy  to  share,  Thy  joy  to  be, 

Thy  glory  all  unveiled  to  see  1 


THINE  IS  THE  POWER. 

OUR  Father,  our  Father,  who  dwellest  in 

light, 
We  lean  on  Thy  love,  and  we  rest  on  Thy 

might  ; 
In    weakness   and    weariness    joy    shall 

abound, 

For  strength  everlasting  in  Thee  shall  be 
found : 


Our  Refuge,  our  Helper  in  conflict  and 

woe, 
Our  mighty  Defender,    how  blessed    to 

know 

That  Thine  is  the  Power  1 

Our  Father,    Thy  promise  we  earnestly 
claim, 

The  sanctified   heart  that  shall    hallow 
Thy  Name, 

In  ourselves,  in  our  dear  ones,  through- 
out the  wide  world, 

Be  Thy  Name  as  a  banner  of  glory  un- 
furled ; 

Let  it  triumph  o'er  evil  and  darkness  and 
guilt, 

We  know   Thou  canst  do   it,  we  know 
that  Thou  wilt, 

For  Thine  is  the  Power  I 

Our  Father,  we  long  for  the  glorious  day 
When  all  shall  adore  Thee,  and  all  shall 

obey. 
O  hasten   Thy  kingdom,  O  show  forth 

Thy  might, 
And  wave  o'er  the  nations  Thy  sceptre 

of  right. 
O    make   up  Thy  jewels,  the  crown  of 

Thy  love, 
And  reign  in  our  hearts  as  thou  reignest 

above, 

For  Thine  is  the  Power  1 

Our  Father,  we  pray  that  Thy  will  may 

be  done, 

For  full  acquiescence  is  heaven  begun  ; — 
Both  in  us  and  by  us  Thy  purpose  be 

wrought, 
In   word   and   in  action,    in   spirit    and 

thought ; 

And  Thou  canst  enable  us  thus  to  fulfil, 
With  holy  rejoicing,  Thy  glorious  will, 
For  Thine  is  the  Power  ! 


206 


UNDER  THE   SURFACE. 


Our  Father,  Thou  carest ;  Thou  knowest 

indeed 

Our  inmost  desires,  our  manifold  need  ; 
The  fount  of  Thy  mercies  shall  never  be 

dry, 
For  Thy  riches  in  glory  shall  mete  the 

supply  ; 
Our  bread  shall  be  given,   our  water  be 

sure, 
And   nothing   shall  fail,    for  Thy  word 

shall  endure, 

And  Thine  is  the  Power  ! 

Our  Father,  forgive  us,  for  we  have  trans- 
gressed, 

Have  wounded  Thy  love,  and   forsaken 
Thy  breast ; 

In  the  peace  of  Thy  pardon  henceforth  let 
us  live, 

That  through  Thy  forgiveness  we  too  may 
forgive ; 

The  Son  of  Thy  love,  who  hath  taught  us 
to  pray, 

For  Thy  treasures  of  mercy  hath  opened 
the  way, 

And  Thine  is  the  Power  ! 

Thou  knowest  our  dangers,  Thou  knowest 

our  frame, 
But  a  tower  of  strength  is  Thy  glorious 

name  ; 

Oh,  lead  us  not  into  temptation,  we  pray, 
But  keep  us,  and  let  us  not  stumble  or 

stray  ; 
Thy  children   shall  under   Thy  shadow 

abide  ; 
In  Thee  as  our  Guide  and  our  Shield  we 

confide, 

For  thine  is  the  Power  1 

Our  Father,  deliver  Thy  children  from  sin, 
From  evil  without  and  from  evil  within, 


From  this  world,  with  its  manifold  evil  and 

wrong, 
From  the  wiles  of  the  Evil  One,  subtle 

and  strong  ; 
Till,  as  Christ  overcame,  we,  too,  conquer 

and  sing, 

All  glory  to  Thee,  our  victorious  King, 
For  Thine  is  the  Power  ! 

Our  Father,  Thy  children  rejoice  in  Thy 

reign, 
Rejoice  in  Thy  highness,  and  praise  Thee 

again  ! 
Yea,  Thine  is  the  kingdom  and  Thine  is 

the  might, 
And    Thine   is  the  glory   transcendently 

bright  ; 

For  ever  and  ever  that  glory  shall  shine, 
For  ever  and  ever  that  kingdom  be  Thine, 
For  Thine  is  the  Power  ! 


THE  ONE  REALITY. 

FOG-WREATHS  of  doubt  in  blinding  eddies 

drifted, 
Whirlwinds  of   fancy,   countergusts  of 

thought, 
Shadowless  shadows  where  warm  lives 

were  sought, 
Numb  feet,  that  feel  not  their  own  tread, 

uplifted 

On  clouds  of  formless  wonder,  lightning- 
drifted  ! 
What  marvel  that  the  whole  world's  life 

should  seem, 

To  helpless  intellect,  a  Brahma-dream, 
From  which  the  real  and  restful  is  out- 
sifted  1 


CONFIDENCE. 


207 


Through  the  dim  storm  a  white  peace- 
bearing  Dove 

Gleams,  and  the  mist  rolls  back,  the  shad- 
ows flee, 
The  dream  is  past.     A  clear  calm  sky 

above, 

Firm  rock  beneath  ;  a  royal-scrolled  tree, 
And  One,  thorn-diademed,  the  King  of 

Love, 

The  Son  of  God,  who  gave  Himself  for 
me. 


TO  THEE. 

'Lord,  to  whom  shall  we  go?'— JOHN  vi.  68. 

I  BRING  my  sins  to  Thee, 

The  sins  I  cannot  count, 
That  all  may  cleansed  be 

In  Thy  once  opened  Fount. 
I  bring  them,  Saviour,  all  to  Thee, 
The  burden  is  too  great  for  me. 

My  heart  to  Thee  I  bring, 

The  heart  I  cannot  read  ; 
A  faithless,  wandering  thing, 

An  evil  heart  indeed. 
I  bring  it,  Saviour,  now  to  Thee, 
That  fixed  and  faithful  it  may  be. 

To  thee  I  bring  my  care, 

The  care  I  cannot  flee  ; 
Thou  wilt  not  only  share, 

But  bear  it  all  for  me. 

0  loving  Saviour,  now  to  Thee 

1  bring  the  load  that  wearies  me. 

I  bring  my  grief  to  Thee, 

The  grief  I  cannot  tell ; 
No  words  shall  needed  be, 

Thou  knowest  all  so  well. 


I  bring  the  sorrow  laid  on  me, 

0  suffering  Saviour,  now  to  Thee. 

My  joys  to  Thee  I  bring, 

The  joys  Thy  love  hath  given, 

That  each  may  be  a  wing 
To  lift  me  nearer  heaven. 

1  bring  them,  Saviour,  all  to  Thee, 
For  Thou  hast  purchased  all  for  me. 

My  life  I  bring  to  Thee, 

I  would  not  be  my  own ; 
O  Saviour,  let  me  be 

Thine  ever,  Thine  alone. 
My  heart,  my  life,  my  all  I  bring 
To  Thee,  my  Saviour  and  my  King  1 


CONFIDENCE. 
(IMPROMPTU  ON  THE  ROAD  TO  WARWICK.  ) 


IN  Thee  I  trust,  on  Thee  I  rest, 
O  Saviour  dear,  Redeemer  blest  1 
No  earthly  friend,  no  brother  knows 
My  weariness,  my  wants,  my  woes. 

On  Thee  I  call, 

Who  knowest  all. 
O  Saviour  dear,  Redeemer  blest, 
In  Thee  I  trust,  on  Thee  I  rest. 

it. 

Thy  power,  Thy  love,  Thy  faithfulness, 
With  lip  and  life  I  long  to  bless. 
Thy  faithfulness  shall  be  my  tower, 
My  sun  Thy  love,  my  shield,  Thy  power 

In  darkest  night, 

In  fiercest  fight. 

With  lip  and  life  I  long  to  bless 
Thy  power,  Thy  love,  Thy  faithfulness. 


208 


UNDER  THE  SURFACE. 


/   COULD    NOT  DO    WITHOUT 
THEE. 

I  COULD  not  do  without  Thee, 

0  Saviour  of  the  lost ! 

Whose   precious  blood  redeemed  me, 

At  such  tremendous  cost. 
Thy  righteousness.  Thy  pardon, 

Thy  precious  blood  must  be 
My  only  hope  and  comfort, 

My  glory  and  my  plea  ! 

I  could  not  do  without  Thee  ! 

1  cannot  stand  alone, 

I  have  no  strength  or  goodness, 

No  wisdom  of  my  own. 
But  Thou,  beloved  Saviour, 

Art  all  in  all  to  me ; 
And  weakness  will  be  power, 

If  leaning  hard  on  Thee. 

I  could  not  do  without  Thee  I 

For  oh  !  the  way  is  long, 
And  I  am  often  weary, 

And  sigh  replaces  song. 
How  could  I  do  without  Thee? 

I  do  not  know  the  way  ; 
Thou  knowest  and  Thou  leadest, 

And  wilt  not  let  me  stray. 

I  could  not  do  without  Thee, 

0  Jesus,  Saviour  dear  ! 
E'en  when  my  eyes  are  holden, 

1  know  that  Thou  art  near. 
How  dreary  and  how  lonely 

This  changeful  life  would  be, 
Without  the  sweet  communion, 
The  secret  rest  with  Thee  I 

I  could  not  do  without  Thee  1 

No  other  friend  can  read 
The  spirit's  strange  deep  longings, 

Interpreting  its  need. 


No  human  heart  could  enter 

Each  dim  recess  of  mine, 
And  soothe  and  hush  and  calm  it, 

O  blessed  Lord,  but  Thine  ! 

I  could  not  do  without  Thee  ! 

For  years  are  fleeting  fast, 
And  soon,  in  solemn  loneliness, 

The  river  must  be  passed. 
But  Thou  wilt  never  leave  me, 

And,  though  the  waves  roll  high, 
I  know  Thou  wilt  be  near  me, 

And  whisper,  *  It  is  I/ 


'JESUS  ONLY. 

MATT.  XVli.  8. 


'  JESUS  only  ! '     In  the  shadow 
Of  the  cloud  so  chill  and  dim, 

We  are  clinging,  loving,  trusting, 
He  with  us,  and  we  with  Him  ; 

All  unseen,  though  ever  nigh, 

'  Jesus  only ' — all  our  cry. 

n. 
*  Jesus  only  ! '     In  the  glory, 

When  the  shadows  all  are  flown, 
Seeing  Him  in  all  His  beauty, 

Satisfied  with  Him  alone  ; 
May  we  join  His  ransomed  throng, 

'  Jesus  only '  — all  our  song  ! 


IS  IT  FOR  ME  /> 

'O  Thou  whom  my  soul  loveth.' — CANT.  i.  7. 

Is  it  for  me,  dear  Saviour, 

Thy  glory  and  Thy  rest  ? 
For  me,  so  weak  and  sinful, 

Oh,  shall  /thus  be  blessed  ? 


HE   IS   THY   LORD. 


2O9 


Is  it  for  me  to  see  Thee 
In  all  Thy  glorious  grace, 

And  gaze  in  endless  rapture 
On  Thy  beloved  Face  ? 

Is  it  for  me  to  listen 

To  Thy  beloved  Voice, 
And  hear  its  sweetest  music 

Bid  even  me  rejoice  ? 
Is  it  for  me,  Thy  welcome, 

Thy  gracious  '  Enter  in  '  ? 
For  me,  Thy  '  Come,  ye  blessed  !' 

For  me,  so  full  of  sin  ? 

0  Saviour,  precious  Saviour, 
My  heart  is  at  Thy  feet  ; 

1  bless  Thee  and  I  love  Thee, 

And  Thee  I  long  to  meet. 
A  thrill  of  solemn  gladness 

Has  hushed  my  very  heart, 
To  think  that  I  shall  really 

Behold  Thee  as  Thou  art  ; 

Behold  Thee  in  Thy  beauty, 

Behold  Thee  face  to  face  ; 
Behold  Thee  in  Thy  glory, 

And  reap  Thy  smile  of  grace ; 
And  be  with  Thee  for  ever, 

And  never  grieve  Thee  more  ! 
Dear  Saviour,  I  must  praise  Thee, 

And  lovingly  adore. 


HIDDEN  IN  LIGHT. 

WHEN   first  the   sun  dispels  the  cloudy 

night, 
The  glad  hills  catch  the  radiance  from 

afar, 
And   smile  for  joy.     We   say,    '  How 

fair  they  are, 
Tree,   rock,  and  heather-bloom,  so  clear 
and  bright ! ' 
14 


But  when  the  sun  draws  near  in  wester- 
ing might, 

Enfolding  all  in  one  transcendent  blaze 
Of  sunset  glow,  we  trace  them  not,  but 

gaze 

And  wonder  at  the  glorious,  holy  light. 
Come  nearer,  Sun  of  Righteousness  !  that 

we, 
Whose  swift  short  hours    of   day  so 

swiftly  run, 
So  overflowed  with  love  and   light  may 

be, 

So  lost  in  glory  of  the  nearing  Sun, 
That  not  our  light,  but  Thine  the  worlr* 

may  see, 

New  praise  to  Thee  through  our  poor 
lives  be  won. 


HE  IS  THY  LORD. 

«  So  shall  the  King  greatly  desire  thy  beauty  ; 
for  He  is  thy  Lord,  and  worship  thou  Him.'  — 
Ps.  xlv.  II. 

JESUS,  belovdd  Master,  art  Thou  near  ? 
My  heart  goes  forth  to  Thee  !    Thy  prec- 
ious Word 
Has  flashed  a  bright  yet  tender  thrill,  a 

touch 
Of  living  light,    all    through  my  silent 

soul. 
I   had   not   looked  for  it     I  was  too 

tired 
For  earnest  search,    and  could  not  rise 

above 

A  sense  of  weary  pain,  that  drew  a  veil 
Of  mist  and  lonely  gloom  before  my  eyes. 
But  as  I  lay  and  waited  for  the  sleep 
That  had  been  asked,    the  Book  beside 

my  hand 
Lured   me  to  glance  at  lightly  -  opening 

leaves. 


2IO 


UNDER   THE   SURFACE. 


Did  not  Thy   loving  Spirit    guide    the 

glance 
That   fell   upon   the  unsought  word   of 

power  : 
1  He   is  thy  Lord!'     So  simple,  yet  so 

strong, 

So  all-embracing  !  oh,  it  was  enough 
To  chase  away  all  mists  and  glooms  of 

life. 

<HE  if  thy  Lord/'     Thyself,  O  Saviour 

dear, 
And  not  another.     Whom   have   I  but 

Thee 
In  heaven  or  earth  ?     And  whom  should 

I  desire  ? 
For  Thou  hast  said,  '  So  shall  the  King 

desire  thee! ' 
And   well  may  I  respond  in  wondering 

love, 
1  Thou  art  my  Lord,  and  I  will  worship 

Thee.' 

'  He  is  thy  Lord!'  So  certainly  !  I  know 
My  glad   allegiance   has   been  given  to 

Thee, 
Because   Thine   all-compelling  love   and 

grace 
Have   won   the  citadel   which   else   had 

stood 

Defiant,  till  God's  wrath  had  laid  it  low. 
So  certainly  !  a  fact  which  cannot  change 
Because  Thou  changest  not,  my  glorious 

Lord. 

'  He  is  THY  Lord! '     O  mine  !    though 

other  lords 
Have   had   dominion,  now  I  know  Thy 

name, 

And  its  great  music  is  the  only  key 
To  which  my  soul  vibrates  in  full  accord, 
Blending  with   other  notes  but  as  they 

blend 


With  tnis.  Oh,  mine  !  But  dare  I  say  it,  /, 
Who  fail   and  wander,   mourning  often- 
times 
Some  sin-made  discord,  or  some  tuneless 

string  ? 

It  would  be  greater  daring  to  ceny, 
To   say,    'Not  mine/   when   Thou  hast 

proved  to  me 
That  1  am  Thine,  by  promise  sealed  with 
blood. 

'He  is  thy  LORD  1 '     Oh,  I  am  glad  of 

this, 
So  glad  that  Thou  art  Master,  Sovereign, 

King! 

Only  I  want  Thy  rule  to  be  supreme 
And  absolute  ;  no  lurking  rebel  thought, 
No  traitor  in  disguise  to  pass  its  bounds. 
So  glad, — because  it  is  such  rest  to  know 
That   Thou  hast  ordered  and  appointed 

all, 
And  wilt  yet  order  and  appoint  my  lot. 

For  though  so  much  I  cannot  understand, 
And  would  not  choose,  has  been,  and  yet 

may  be, 
Thou  choosest  and  Thou  rulest,  THOU, 

my  Lord ! 
And  this  is  peace,  such  peace, — I  hardly 

pause 

To  look  beyond  to  all  the  coming  joy 
And  glory  of  Thy  full  and  visible  reign  : 
Thou  reignest  now — 'He  is  thy  Lord! '  to- 
day. 

'  My  Lord/'  My  heart  hath  said  it  joy- 
fully. 

Nay,  could  it  be  my  own  cold  treacher- 
ous heart  ? 

'Tis  comfort  to  remember  that  we  have 

No  will  or  power  to  think  one  holy 
thought, 


ASCENSION   SONG. 


211 


And  thereby  estimate  His  power  in  us,— 
'  No  man  can  say  that  Jesus  is  the  Lord! 
But  by  the  Holy  Ghost:     Then  it  must  be 
That  all  the  sweetness  of  the  word,    'Thy 

Lord,' 

And  all  the  long  glad  echoes  that  it  woke, 
Are  whispers  of  the  Spirit,  and  a  seal 
Upon  His  work,  as  yet  so  faintly  seen. 

'  My  Lord,  my  God!'     Thou  nearest, 

blessed  Lord, 
Thou  knowest  how,  like  Mary,  I  would 

bend 

At  Thy  beloved  feet,  if  Thou  wert  here  ! 
4  If  Thou  wert  here  ? '     But  surely  Thou 

art  here, 

And  I  believe  it,  though  I  cannot  see. 
I  should  not  love  Thee  now  wert  Thou 

not  near, 
Looking   on   me  in   love.     Yea,    Thou 

dost  meet 
Those  that  remember  Thee.     Look  on 

me  still, 
Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and  let  Thy  look  give 

strength 
To  work  for  Thee  with  single  heart  and 

eye. 


OUR  KING. 

*  Worship  thou  Him.' — Ps.  xlv.  n. 

O  SAVIOUR,  precious  Saviour, 

Whom  yet  unseen  we  love  ; 
O  Name  of  might  and  favor, 
All  other  names  above  ! 

We  worship  Thee,  we  bless  Thee, 

To  Thee  alone  we  sing  ; 
We  praise  Thee,  and  confess  Thee 
Our  holy  Lord  and  King  1 


O  Bringer  of  salvation, 

Who  wondrously  hast  wrought, 
Thyself  the  revelation 

Of  love  beyond  our  thought ! 

We  worship  Thee,  we  bless  Thee, 

To  Thee  alone  we  sing  ; 
We  praise  Thee,  and  confess  Thee 
Our  gracious  Lord  and  King  ! 

In  Thee  all  fulness  dwelleth, 

All  grace  and  power  divine  ; 
The  glory  that  excelleth, 
O  Son  of  God,  is  Thine  : 

We  worship  Thee,  we  bless  Thee, 

To  Thee  alone  we  sing  ; 
We  praise  Thee,  and  confess  Thee 
Our  glorious  Lord  and  King  ! 

Oh,  grant  the  consummation 

Of  this  our  song  above, 
In  endless  adoration, 
And  everlasting  love  : 

Then  shall  we  praise  and  bless  Thee, 

Where  perfect  praises  ring, 
And  evermore  confess  Thee 
Our  Saviour  and  our  King  ! 


ASCENSION  SONG. 

'  He  ascended  up  on  high.' — EPH.  iv.  8. 

GOLDEN  harps  are  so.unding, 

Angel  voices  ring, 
Pearly  gates  are  opened — 

Opened  for  the  King  ; 
Christ,  the  King  of  Glory, 

Jesus,  King  of  Love, 
Is  gone  up  in  triumph 
To  His  throne  above. 
All  His  work  is  ended, 

Joyfully  we  sing, 
Jesus  hath  ascended  ! 
Glory  to  our  King  ! 


212 


UNDER  THE   SURFACE. 


He  who  came  to  save  us, 
He  who  bled  and  died, 
Now  is  crowned  with  glory 

At  His  Father's  side, 
Never  more  to  suffer, 
Never  more  to  die, 
Jesus,  King  of  Glory, 
Is  gone  up  on  high. 
All  His  work  is  ended, 

Joyfully  we  sing, 
Jesus  hath  ascended ! 
Glory  to  our  King ! 

Praying  for  His  children, 

In  that  blessed  place, 
Calling  them  to  glory, 

Sending  them  His  grace  ; 
His  bright  home  preparing, 

Faithful  ones,  for  you  ; 
Jesus  ever  liveth, 
Ever  loveth  too. 

All  His  work  is  ended, 

Joyfully  we  sing, 
Jesus  hath  ascended  ! 
Glory  to  our  King  ! 


ADVENT  SONG. 

THOU  art  coming,  O  my  Saviour  ! 

Thou  art  coming,  O  my  King  ! 
In  Thy  beauty  all-resplendent, 
In  Thy  glory  all-transcendent ; 

Well  may  we  rejoice  and  sing  ! 
Coming  !  in  the  opening  east, 

Herald  brightness  slowly  swells  ; 
Coming  !  O  my  glorious  Priest, 

Hear  we  not  Thy  golden  bells  ? 

Thou  art  coming,  Thou  art  coming  ! 
We  shall  meet  Thee  on  Thy  way, 


We  shall  see  Thee,  we  shall  know  Thee, 
We  shall  bless  Thee,  we  shall  show  Thee 

All  our  hearts  could  never  say  ! 
What  an  anthem  that  will  be, 
Ringing  out  our  love  to  Thee, 
Pouring  out  our  rapture  sweet 
At  Thine  own  all-glorious  feet ! 

Thou  art  coming  !     Rays  of  glory, 
Through  the  veil  Thy  death  has  rent, 

Touch  the  mountain  and  the  river 

With  a  golden  glowing  quiver, 
Thrill  of  light  and  music  blent. 

Earth  is  brightened  when  this  gleam 

Falls  on  flower  and  rock  and  stream  ; 

Life  is  brightened  when  this  ray 

Falls  upon  its  darkest  day. 

Not  a  cloud  and  not  a  shadow, 

Not  a  mist  and  not  a  tear, 
Not  a  sin  and  not  a  sorrow, 
Not  a  dim  and  veiled  to-morrow, 

For  that  sunrise  grand  and  clear  ! 
Jesus,  Saviour,  once  with  Thee, 

Nothing  else  seems  worth  a  thought ! 
Oh,  how  marvellous  will  be 

All  the  bliss  Thy  pain  hath  bought ! 

Thou  art  coming  !     At  Thy  table 

We  are  witnesses  for  this, 
While  remembering  hearts  Thou  meetest, 
In  communion  clearest,  sweetest, 

Earnest  of  our  coming  bliss. 
Showing  not  Thy  death  alone, 

And  Thy  love  exceeding  great, 
But  Thy  coming  and  Thy  throne, 

All  for  which  we  long  and  wait. 

Thou  art  coming  !     We  are  waiting 
With  a  hope  that  cannot  fail ; 

Asking  not  the  day  or  hour, 

Resting  on  Thy  word  of  power 
Anchored  safe  within  the  veil. 


HAVE  YOU  NOT  A  WORD  FOR  JESUS? 


213 


Time  appointed  may  be  long, 
But  the  vision  must  be  sure  : 

Certainty  shall  make  us  strong, 
Joyful  patience  can  endure  ! 

Oh,  the  joy  to  see  Thee  reigning, 

Thee,  my  own  beloved  Lord  ! 
Every  tongue  Thy  name  confessing, 
Worship,  honor,  glory,  blessing, 

Brought  to  Thee  with  glad  accord  ! 
Thee,  my  Master  and  my  Friend, 

Vindicated  and  enthroned  ! 
Unto  earth's  remotest  end 

Glorified,  adored,  and  owned  ! 


"  WORKERS  TOGETHER  WITH  HIM."  — 
2  Cor.  vi.  i. 

'  '  SERVE  THE  LORD  WITH  GLADNESS  ; 
COME  BEFORE  HlS  PRESENCE  WITH  SING- 

ING." -  Ps.   C.    2. 


HAVE   YOU  NOT   A 
JESUS  / 


WORD  FOR 


'  O  Lord,  open  Thou  my   lips  ;  and   my   mouth 
shall  show  forth  Thy  praise.'  —  Ps.  li.  15. 

HAVE  you  not  a  word  for  Jesus  ?  not  a 

word  to  say  for  Him  ? 
He  is  listening  through  the  chorus  of  the 

burning  seraphim  ! 
HE  is  LISTENING  ;  does  He  hear  you  speak- 

ing of  the  things  of  earth, 
Only  of  its  passing  pleasure,  selfish  sorrow, 

empty  mirth  ? 
He  has  spoken  words  of  blessing,  pardon, 

peace,  and  love  to  you, 
Glorious   hopes   and    gracious    comfort, 

strong  and  tender,  sweet  and  true  ; 


Does  He  hear  you  telling  others  some- 
thing of  His  love  untold,_ 

Overflowings  of  thanksgiving  for  His  mer- 
cies manifold  ? 

Have  you  not  a  word  for  Jesus  ?  Will  the 
world  His  praise  proclaim  ? 

Who  shall  speak  if  ye  are  silent  ?  ye  who 
know  and  love  His  name. 

You,  whom  He  hath  called  and  chosen 
His  own  witnesses  to  be, 

Will  you  tell  your  gracious  Master, '  Lord, 
we  cannot  speak  for  Thee '  ? 

*  Cannot !'  though  He  suffered  for  you, 
died  because  He  loved  you  so  ! 

'  Cannot !'  though  He  has  forgiven,  mak- 
ing scarlet  white  as  snow  ! 

'  Cannot !'  though  His  grace  abounding 
is  your  freely  promised  aid  ! 

'  Cannot !'  though  HE  stands  beside  you, 
though  HE  says,  '  Be  not  afraid  !' 

Have  you  not  a  word  for  Jesus  ?  Some, 
perchance,  while  ye  are  dumb, 

Wait  and  weary  for  your  message,  hoping 
you  will  bid  them  '  come  ;' 

Never  telling  hidden  sorrows,  lingering  just 
outside  the  door, 

Longing  for  your  hand  to  lead  them  into 
rest  for  evermore. 

Yours  may  be  the  joy  and  honor  His  re- 
deemed ones  to  bring, 

Jewels  for  the  coronation  of  your  coming 
Lord  and  King. 

Will  you  cast  away  the  gladness  thus  your 
Master's  joy  to  share. 

All  because  a  word  for  Jesus  seems  too 
much  for  you  to  dare  ? 

What  shall  be  our  word  for  Jesus  ?  Mas- 
ter, give  it  day  by  day  ; 

Ever  as  the  need  arises,  teach  Thy  child- 
ren what  to  say. 


2I4 


UNDER  THE   SURFACE. 


Give  us  holy  love  and  patience  ;  grant  us 

deep  humility, 
That  of  self  we  may  be  emptied,  and   our 

hearts  be  full  of  Thee  ; 
Give  us  zeal  and  faith  and  fervor,  make 

us  winning,  make  us  wise, 
Single-hearted,     strong    and    fearless,  — 

Thou  hast  called  us,  we  will  rise  ! 
Let  the  might  of  Thy  good  Spirit  go  with 

every  loving  word  ; 
And  by  hearts  prepared  and  opened  be 

our  message  always  heard  ! 

Yes,  we  have  a  word  for  Jesus  !     Living 

echoes  we  will  be 
Of  Thine  own  sweet  words  of  blessing,  of 

Thy  gracious  '  Come  to  Me. ' 
Jesus,  Master  !  yes,  we  love  Thee,  and  to 

prove  our  love,  would  lay 
Fruit  of  lips  which  Thou  wilt  open,  at 

Thy  blessed  feet  to-day. 
Many  an    effort  it  may  cost  us,  many  a 

heart-beat,  many  a  fear, 
But  Thou  knowest,  and  wilt  strengthen, 

and  Thy  help  is  always  near. 
Give  us  grace  to  follow  fully,   vanquish- 
ing our  faithless  shame, 
Feebly  it  may  be,  but  truly,  witnessing 

for  Thy  dear  Name. 

Yes,  we  have  a  word  for  Jesus  I  we  will 
bravely  speak  for  Thee, 

And  Thy  bold  and  faithful  soldiers,  Sa- 
viour, we  would  henceforth  be  : 

In  Thy  name  set  up  our  banners,  while 
Thine  own  shall  wave  above, 

With  Thy  crimson  Name  of  Mercy,  and 
Thy  golden  Name  of  Love. 

Help  us  lovingly  to  labor,  looking  for 
Thy  present  smile, 


Looking  for  Thy  promised  blessing, 
through  the  brightening  '  little  while. ' 

Words  for  Thee  in  weakness  spoken,  Thou 
wilt  here  accept  and  own, 

And  confess  them  in  Thy  glory,  when  we 
see  Thee  on  Thy  throne. 


A    WORKER'S  PRAYER. 

LORD,  speak  to  me,  that  I  may  speak 
In  living  echoes  of  Thy  tone  ; 

As  Thou  hast  sought,  so  let  me  seek 
Thy  erring  children,  lost,  and  lone. 

O  lead  me,  Lord,  that  I  may  lead 

The  wandering  and  the  wavering  feet  ; 

O  feed  me,  Lord,  that  I  may  feed 

Thy  hungering  ones  with  manna  sweet. 

0  strengthen  me,  that  while  I  stand 
Firm  on  the  Rock  and  strong  in  Thee, 

1  may  stretch  out  a  loving  hand 

To  wrestlers  with  the  troubled  sea. 

O  teach  me,  Lord,  that  I  may  teach 
The  precious  things  Thou  dost  impart  ; 

And  wing  my  words,  that  they  may  reach 
The  hidden  depths  of  many  a  heart. 

O  give  Thine  own  sweet  rest  to  me, 
That  I  may  speak  with  soothing  power 

A  word  in  season,  as  from  Thee, 
To  weary  ones  in  needful  hour. 

O  fill  me  with  Thy  fulness,  Lord, 

Until  my  very  heart  overflow 
In  kindling  thought  and  glowing  word, 
Thy  love  to  tell,  Thy  praise  to  show. 

O  use  me,  Lord,  use  even  me, 

Just   as   Thou   wilt,    and   when,     and 

where  ; 
Until  Thy  blessed  Face  I  see, 

Thy  rest,  Thy  joy,  Thy  glory  share. 


OUR   COMMISSION. 


215 


OUR  COMMISSION. 

*  And  the  Spirit  and  the  Bride  say,  Come.   And 
let  Him  that  heareth  say,  Come.' — REV.  xxii.  17. 

YE  who  hear  the  blessM  call 
Of  the  Spirit  and  the  Bride, 
Hear  the  Master's  word  to  all, 
Your  commission  and  your  guide — 

*  And  let  him  that  heareth  say, 
Come, '  to  all  yet  far  away. 

'  Come  !'  alike  to  age  and  youth  ;, 
Tell  them  of  our  Friend  above, 

Of  His  beauty  and  His  truth, 
Preciousness  and  grace  and  love  ; 

Tell  them  what  you  know  is  true, 

Tell  them  what  He  is  it  you. 

'  Come  !'  to  those  who  never  heard 
Why  the  Saviour's  blood  was  shed ; 

Bear  to  them  the  message-word 
That  can  quicken  from  the  dead  ; 

Tell  them  Jesus  '  died  for  all/ 

Tell  them  of  His  loving  call. 

*  Come  !'  to  those  who  do  not  care 

For  the  Saviour's  precious  death, 
Having  not  a  thought  to  spare 

For  the  gracious  words  He  saith  : 
Ere  the  shadows  gather  deep, 
Rouse  them  from  their  fatal  sleep. 

'Come  !'  to  those  who,  while  they  hear, 
Linger,  hardly  knowing  why  ; 

Tell  them  that  the  Lord  is  near, 
Tell  them  Jesus  passes  by. 

Call  them  now  /  oh,  do  not  wait, 

Lest  to-morrow  be  too  late  ! 

'Come  I*  to  whose  who  wander  far, 

Seeking,  never  finding,  rest ; 
Point  them  to  the  Morning  Star; 

Show  them  how  they  may  be  blest 


With  the  love  that  cannot  cease, 
Joyful  hope  and  perfect  peace. 

'  Come  !  '  to  those  who  draw  in  vain 

From  the  broken  cisterns  here, 
Drinking  but  to  thirst  again  ; 

Tell  them  of  the  fountain  near. 
Living  water,  flowing  still, 
Free  for  '  whosoever  will. ' 
'  Come  !'  to  those  who  faint  and  groan 

Under  some  unuttered  grief, 
Hearts  that  suffer  all  alone  ; 

Try  to  bring  them  true  relief. 
Tell  them  'Jesus  wept/  and  He 
Still  is  full  of  sympathy. 

'  Come  1'  to  those  who  feel  their  sin, 

Fearing  to  be  lost  at  last, 
Mourning  for  the  plague  within, 

Mourning  for  transgressions  past  ; 
Tell  them  Jesus  calls  them  in, 
Heavy  laden  with  their  sin. 

Such  as  these  are  all  around, 
Meeting,  passing,  every  day  ; 

Ye  who  know  the  joyful  sound, 
Have  ye  not  a  word  to  say  ? 

Ye  who  hear  that  blessed  'Come/ 

Sweet  and  clear,  can  ye  be  dumb  ? 

Brothers,  sisters,  do  not  wait, 

Speak  for  Him  who  speaks  to  you  ! 

Wherefore  should  you  hesitate  ? 
This  is  no  great  thing  to  do. 

Jesus  only  bids  you  say, 

'  Come  !'  and  will  you  not  obey  ? 

Lord  !  to  Thy  command  we  bow, 
Touch  our  lips  with  altar  fire  ; 

Let  Thy  Spirit  kindle  now 

Faith  and  zeal,  and  strong  desire ; 

So  that  henceforth  we  may  be 

Fellow-workers,  Lord,  with  Thee. 


216 


UNDER  THE   SURFACE. 


SINGING  FOR  JESUS. 

•  With  my  song  will  I  praise  Him.'— Ps.  xxviii.  7. 

SINGING  for  Jesus,  our  Saviour  and  King, 
Singing  for  Jesus,  the  Lord  whom  we 

love  ; 
All  adoration  we  joyously  bring, 

Longing  to  praise  as  we  praise   Him 
above. 

Singing  for  Jesus,  our  Master  and  Friend, 
Telling   His  love  and  His  marvellous 

grace, 

Love  from  eternity,  love  without  end, 
Love  for  the  loveless,  the  sinful  and 
base. 

Singing  for  Jesus,  and  trying  to  win 
Many  to  love   Him,  and  join   in   the 
song; 

Calling  the  weary  and  wandering  in, 
Rolling  the  chorus  of  gladness  along. 

Singing  for  Jesus,  our  Life  and  our  Light ; 
Singing  for   Him  as  we  press   to   the 

mark ; 
Singing  for   Him  when  the  morning   is 

bright, 

Singing,  still  singing,  for  Him  in  the 
dark. 

Singing    for   Jesus,    our    Shepherd    and 

Guide, 
Singing  for  gladness  of  heart  that  He 

gives  ; 
Singing  for  wonder  and  praise  that   He 

died, 

Singing  for  blessing  and  joy  that  He 
lives. 

Singing  for  Jesus,  oh,  singing  with  joy  ! 
Thus  will  we  praise  Him  and  tell  out 
His  love, 


Till  He  shall  call  us  to  brighter  employ, 
Singing  for  Jesus  forever  above. 


A  SILENCE  AND  A  SONG. 

I  AM  alone,  dear  Master — 
Alone  in  heart  with  Thee  ! 

Though  merry  faces  round  me 
And  loving  looks  I  see. 

There's  a  hush  among  the  blithe  ones, 
While  a  pleasant  voice  is  heard, 

A  truce  to  all  the  tournament 
Of  flashing  wit  and  word. 

And  in  that  truce  of  silence, 

I  lay  aside  my  lance, 
And  through  the  light  and  music  send 

One  happy  upward  glance. 

I  know  not  what  the  song  may  be, 

The  words  I  cannot  hear  ; 
'Tis  but  a  gentle  melody, 

All  simple,  soft,  and  clear. 

But  the  sweetness  and  the  quiet 

Have  set  my  spirit  free, 
And  I  turn  in  loving  gladness, 

Dear  Master,  now  to  Thee. 

I  know  I  love  Thee  better 

Than  any  earthly  joy, 
For  Thou  hast  given  me  the  peace 

Which  nothing  can  destroy. 

I  know  that  Thou  art  nearer  still 
Than  all  this  merry  throng, 

And  sweeter  is  the  thought  of  Thee 
Than  any  lovely  song. 

Thou  hast  put  gladness  in  my  heart, 

Then  well  may  I  be  glad  ! 
Without  the  secret  of  Thy  love, 

I  could  not  but  be  sad. 


THE  COMING  OF  THE  HEALER. 


I  bless  Thee  for  these  pleasant  hours 
With  sunny-hearted  friends, 

But  more  for  this  sweet  moment's  calm 
Thy  loving-kindness  sends. 

0  Master,  gracious  Master, 
What  will  Thy  presence  be, 

If  such  a  thrill  of  joy  can  crown 
One  upward  look  to  Thee  ? 

Tis  ending  now,  that  gentle  song, 

And  they  will  call  for  me  ; 
They  know  the  music  I  love  best, — 

My  song  shall  be  for  Thee  ! 

For  Thee,  who  hast  so  loved  us, 
And  whom,  not  having  seen, 

We  love  ;  on  whom  in  all  our  joy, 
As  in  our  grief,  we  lean. 

Be  near  me  still,  and  tune  my  notes, 
And  make  them  sweet  and  strong, 

To  waft  Thy  words  to  many  a  heart 
Upon  the  wings  of  song. 

1  know  that  all  will  listen, 

For  my  very  heart  shall  sing, 

And  it  shall  be  Thy  praise  alone, 

My  glorious  Lord  and  King. 


THE  COMING  OF  THE  HEALER. 

'  They  came  into  the  land  of  Gennesaret.  And 
when  the  men  of  that  place  had  knowledge  of 
Him,  they  sent  out  into  all  that  country  round 
about  and  brought  unto  Him  all  that  were  dis- 
eased ;  and  besought  Him  that  they  might  only 
touch  the  hem  of  His  garment  ;  and  as  many  as 
touched  were  made  perfectly  whole.1 

MATT.   xiv.  34-36. 

FROM  the  watch  of  lonely  mountain  pray- 
er, in  gathering  storm  and  blast — 

From  the  path  no  mortal  foot  could  tread, 
o'er  waters  wild  and  vast, 


He  came,  the  glorious  Son  of  God,  with 

healing,  love,  and  light, 
To  the  land  of  far  Gennesaret,  that  lay  in 

shadowy  night 

Oh  blessed   morning,  sunrise  true,  upon 

that  gloomy  shore  ! 
Where  they  who  walked  in  darkness  long, 

the  Light  of  Life  adore. 
Oh    blessed    coming   to    the    land     of 

Death's  usurping  sway  ; 
For  where   those  shining    footsteps    fall, 

the  shadows  flee  away  ! 

But  when  the  Light  had  touched  the  hills 

by  slumbering  Galilee, 
The  golden  wave  must  roll   afar  towards 

the  western  sea  : 
And  when  the  men  had  knowledge  of  the 

Holy  One  of  God, 
Then  they  sent  out  through  all  the   land, 

and  spread  His  fame  abroad. 

And  then  they  brought  the  suffering  ones, 

the  lonely,  or  the  dear, 
And  laid  them  at  the  Healer's  feet,  from 

far  away,  or  near  ; 
Then  bent  before   the  Wondrous   One, 

and  earnestly  besought 
That  they  might   only  touch   the   hem 

around  His  garment  wrought 

He  heard  the  prayer,  and  gave  the  will  and 

strength  to  touch  the  hem  ; 
And  gave  the  faith,  and  virtue  flowed  from 

Him,  and  healed  them  : 
For  every  one  whose  feeblest  touch   thus 

met  the  Saviour's  power, 
Rose  up  in  perfect  health  and  strength  in 

that  accepted  hour. 


218 


UNDER  THE   SURFACE. 


O  Tender  One,  O  Mighty  One,  who  never 

sent  away 
The  sinner  or  the  sufferer,  Thou   art  The 

Same  to-day  ! 
The  Same  in  Love,  the  Same  in   Power, 

and  Thou  art  waiting  still, 
To  heal  the   multitudes  that  come,  yea, 

*  whosoever  will !' 

We  know  Thee,  blessed  Saviour,  who  hast 
'  filled  us  with  good  things  ; ' 

Thou  hast  arisen  on  our  land,  with  heal- 
ing in  Thy  wings ; 

Thou  hast  arisen  on  our  hearts,  with  light 
and  life  Divine  ; 

Now  bid  us  be  Thy  messengers,  bid  us 
'  arise  and  shine  !' 

Oh,  let  Thy  Spirit  fire  our  zeal,  that  we 

may  now  '  send  out/ 
And  tell  that  Thou  art  come  '  in  all  the 

country  round  about,' — 
That  Thou  art  waiting  now  to  heal,  that 

Thou  art  strong  to  save, 
That  Thou  hast  spoilt  the  Spoiler,  Death, 

and  triumphed  o'er  the  grave. 

Oh,  make  us  fervent  in  the  quest,  that  we 

may  bring  them  in, 
The   weary  and   the  wounded,  and  the 

sufferers  from  sin  ; 
The  stricken  and  the  dying,  let  us  seek 

them  out  for  Thee, 
And  lay  them  at  Thy  glorious  feet,  that 

healed  they  may  be. 

Oh,  pour  upon  our  waiting  hearts  the 

Spirit  of  Thy  grace, 
That  we  may  plead  with  Thee  to  show  the 

brightness  of  Thy  face, 


Beseeching  Thee  to  grant  the  will  and 

strength  and  faith  to  such 
As  lie  in  helpless  misery,  Thy  garment's 

hem  to  touch. 

And  then,  Lord  Jesus,  make  them  whole, 

that  they  may  rise  and  bring 
New   praise   and  glory   unto  Thee,  our 

Healer  and  our  King  ; 
Yea,  let   Thy   saving   health  be   known 

through  all  the  earth  abroad, 
So  shall  the  people  praise  Thy  Name,  our 

Saviour  and  our  God. 


ANOTHER  FOR  CHRIST. 

ANOTHER   called,  another  brought,  dear 

Master,  to  Thy  feet ! 
Oh,  where  are  words  to  tell  the  joy  so 

wonderful  and  sweet ! 
Oh,  where  are  words  to  give  Thee  thanks 

that  Thou  indeed  hast  heard, 
That  Thou  hast  proved  and  sealed  anew 

Thy  faithful  promise-word  ! 

We  prayed  so  long,  with  fervent  hope  and 

patient  faith,  that  she 
With  all  her  early  wealth  of  love  might 

give  herself  to  Thee  ; 
Well  knowing  that  our  prayer  must  be  the 

echo  of  Thy  will, 
Itself  the  earnest  and  the  pledge  that  Thou 

wilt  all  fulfil. 

And  now  the  prayer  is  turned  to  praise, 

and  with  the  angel-throng, 
Who  even  now  are  pouring  forth  a  new 

and  joyful  song, 
Our   hearts  ascend,  our  whispers  blend, 

in  deepest  thrill  of  praise, 
The  happiest  Alleluia-hymn  that  human 

heart  can  raise. 


HOW  WONDERFUL!' 


219 


Oh,  joy  to  know  that  Thou  hast  found 
Thy  fair  and  weary  dove, 

Rejoicing  o'er  the  wanderer  now,  and  rest- 
ing in  Thy  love, 

That  Thou  art  glad,  that  Thou  hast  seen 
the  travail  of  Thy  soul, 

Thy  blessed  Name  emblazoned  on  a  new 
and  living  scroll ! 


O  Master,  blessed  Master,  it  is  hard  in- 
deed to  know 

That  thousands  round  our  daily  path  mis- 
understand Thee  so  ! 

Despised  and  rejected  yet,  no  beauty  they 
can  see, 

O  King  of  glory  and  of  grace,  beloved 
Lord,  in  Thee ! 


Not  even  as  a  lovely  song  of  pleasant  voice 

appears 
The  story  of  Thy  wondrous  love  in  dull 

and  drowsy  ears ; 
'Tis  nothing  to  the  passers-by,  who  coldly 

turn  aside, 
That    Thou   hast  poured   Thy   precious 

blood,  that  Thou  wast  crucified. 


O  Saviour,  precious  Saviour,  come  in  all 
Thy  power  and  grace, 

And  take  away  the  veil  that  hides  the 
glory  of  Thy  face  ! 

Oh,  manifest  the  marvels  of  Thy  tender- 
ness and  love, 

And  let  Thy  Name  be  blessed  and  praised 
all  other  names  above. 


Oh,  vindicate  Thyself,  and  show  how  per- 
fect are  Thy  ways, 

Untraceable,  because  too  bright  for  weak 
and  mortal  gaze  ; 


Shine  forth,  O  Sun,  and  bid  the  scales  of 
darkening  evil  fall, 

Thou  Altogether  Lovely  One,  Thou  glo- 
rious All-in-all  ! 

Yet  conquering  Thy  word  goes  forth  on 

all-triumphant  way  ! 
'Ye   shall  be  gathered  one  by  one/  'tis 

true  afresh  to-day ! 
And  so  we  hush  the  yearning  cry,  '  How 

long,  O  Lord,  how  long  ?' 
A  sweet  new  token   Thou  hast  given  to 

change  it  into  song. 

So  once  again  we  praise  Thee,  with  Thy 

holy  ones  above, 
Because  another  heart  has  seen  Thy  great 

and  mighty  love ; 
Another  heart  will  own  Thee,  Lord,  and 

worship  Thee  as  King, 
And  grateful  love  and  glowing  praise  and 

willing  service  bring. 

Another  voice  to  '  tell  it  out '  what  great 
things  Thou  hast  done. 

Another  life  to  live  for  Thee,  another  wit- 
ness won, 

Another  faithful  soldier  on  our  Captain's 
side  enrolled, 

Another  heart  to  read  aright  Thy  heart  of 
love  untold  ! 


'HOW  WONDERFUL/' 

HE  answered  all  my  prayer  abundantly, 
And  crowned  the  work  that  to  His  feet 

I  brought, 
With  blessing  more  than  I  had  asked 

or  thought — 

A  blessing  undisguised,  and  fair,  and  free. 
I  stood  amazed,  and  whispered,  '  Can  it  be 


22O 


UNDER  THE   SURFACE. 


That  He  hath  granted  all  the  boon  I 

sought  ? 
How  wonderful   that  He  for  me  hath 

wrought ! 
How  wonderful  that  He  hath  answered 

me!' 
O  faithless  heart !      He    said  that   He 

would  hear 
And  answer  Thy  poor  prayer,  and  He 

hath  heard 
And    proved    His    promise.     Wherefore 

didst  thou  fear  ? 
Why  marvel  that  Thy  Lord  hath  kept 

His  word  ? 

More  wonderful  if  He  should  fail  to  bless 
Expectant  faith   and   prayer    with    good 
success  ! 


VALIANT  FOR  THE  TRUTH. 

'Ye  should  earnestly   contend    for    the    faith 
which  was  once  delivered  unto  the  saints.' — 

JUDE  3. 

UNFURL  the   Christian   Standard  !  lift  it 

manfully  on  high, 
And  rally  where  its  shining  folds  wave  out 

against  the  sky  ! 
Away   with  weak   half-heartedness,    with 

faithlessness  and  fear ! 
Unfurl  the  Christian  Standard,  and  follow 

with  a  cheer ! 


In  God's  own  name  we  set  it  up,  this  ban- 
ner brave  and  bright, 

Uplifted  for  the  cause  of  Christ,  the  cause 
of  Truth  and  Right ; 

The  cause  that  none  can  overthrow,  the 
cause  that  must  prevail, 

Because  the  promise  of  the  Lord  can  nev- 
er, never  fail ! 


Now,  who  is  on  the  Lord's  side,  who? 

come,  throng  His  battle-field  ; 
Be  strong,  and  show  that  ye  are  men ! 

come  forth  with  sword  and  shield  ! 
What  peace,  while  traitorous  Evil  stalks 

in  false  array  of  light  ? 
What  peace,  while  enemies  of  Christ  are 

gathering  for  the  fight  ? 

Unfurl  the  Christian  Standard,  with  firm 

and  fearless  hands  ! 
For  no   pale  flag   of  compromise    with 

Error's  legion  bands, 
And   no  faint-hearted  flag  of  truce  with 

Mischief  and  with  Wrong, 
Should  lead  the  soldiers  of  the  Cross,  the 

faithful  and  the  strong. 

Unfurl  the  Christian  Standard,  and  follow 
through  the  strife 

The  noble  army  who  have  won  the  mar- 
tyr's crown  of  life ; 

Our  ancestors  could  die  for  Truth,  could 
brave  the  deadly  glow, 

And  shall  we  let  the  standard  fall,  and 
yield  it  to  the  foe? 

But  if  ye  dare  not  hold  it  fast,  yours  only 

is  the  loss, 
For  it  shall  be  victorious,  this  Standard  of 

the  Cross  ! 
//  shall  not  suffer,  though  ye  rest  beneath 

your  sheltering  trees, 
And  cast  away  the  victor's  crown  for  love 

of  timid  ease. 

The  Lord  of  Hosts,  in  whom  alone  our 

weakness  shall  be  strong^ 
Shall   lead   us   on   to   conquest    with    a 

mighty  battle  song  ; 


A  PLEA  FOR  THE  LITTLE  ONES. 


221 


And  soon  the  warfare  shall  be  past,  the 

glorious  triumph  won, 
The  kingdoms  of  this  world  shall  be  the 

kingdoms  of  His  Son ! 


A  PLEA  FOR  THE  LITTLE 
ONES. 

IT  was  Easter  Monday  morning, 

A  dull  and  showery  day  ; 
We  were  sorry  for  the  children 

Who  could  not  run  and  play. 

I  heard  the  sound  of  singing 
As  I  passed  along  the  street — 

An  unseen  tiny  chorus 
Of  tiny  voices  sweet. 

Beneath  a  sheltering  doorway,      » 
Safe  from  the  April  weather, 

Eight  happy  little  singers 
Sat  lovingly  together. 

Five  crowding  on  the  doorstep 
Wiih  arms  entwined,  and  three 

On  broken  stool  or  baby  chair, 
Close  clustering  knee  to  knee 

They  sang  about  the  '  happy  land, 

So  very  '  far  away, ' 
And  happier  faces  never  shone 

In  any  game  of  play. 

And  then  they  sang  it  all  again, 
And  gently  rocked  each  other; 

Then  said  the  little  leader, 
'  Now  let  us  sing  another  1 ' 

'Now  /  will  say  a  hymn  to  you  ! ' 
(Oh,  the  sixteen  eyes  were  bright !) 

So  I  said  them  *  Little  Jessie/ 
As  they  listened  with  delight. 


JESSIE'S  FRIEND. 

'  Little  Jessie,  darling  pet, 

Do  you  want  a  Friend  ? 
One  who  never  will  forget, 

Loving  to  the  end  ? 

'  One  whom  you  can  tell,  when  sad, 

Everything  that  grieves, 
One  who  loves  to  make  you  glad, 

One  who  never  leaves  ? 

*  Such  a  loving  Friend  is  ours, 

Near  us  all  the  day, 
Helping  us  in  lesson-hours, 

Smiling  on  our  play ; 

'  Keeping  us  from  doing  wrong, 

Guarding  everywhere ; 
Listening  to  each  happy  song, 

And  each  little  prayer. 

'  Jessie,  if  you  only  knew 

What  He  is  to  me, 
Surely  you  would  love  Him  too, 

You  would  "  come  and  see." 

'  Come,  and  you  will  find  it  true, 

Happy  you  will  be  ! 
Jesus  says,  and  says  to  you, 

"Come,  oh  come,  to  Me." 


'Now  tell  me  who,  if  you  can  guess, 

Was  little  Jessie's  Friend  ? 
Who  is  the  Friend  who  loves  so  much, 

And  loveth  to  the  end  ?' 

I  would  that  you  had  seen  the  smile 

On  every  sunny  face  ; 
It  made  a  palace  of  delight 

Out  of  that  dismal  place, 


222 


UNDER   THE   SURFACE. 


As,  reverently  yet  joyously, 

They  answered  without  fear, 
'  It's  Jesus  !'     That  beloved  Name 

Had  never  seemed  more  dear. 

And  then  we  talked  awhile  of  Him— 

They  knew  the  story  well  ; 
His  holy  life,  His  precious  death 

Those  rosy  lips  could  tell. 

All  beautiful,  and  wonderful, 
And  sweet  and  true  it  seemed, 

Such  hold  no  fairy  tale  had  gained 
That  ever  fancy  dreamed. 

So,  to  be  good  and  kind  all  day 

These  little  children  tried, 
Because  they  knew  He  was  so  good, 

Because  He  bled  and  died. 

Blest  knowledge  !     O  what  human   lore 
Can  be  compared  with  such  ! 

'  Who  taught  you  this,  dear  little  ones  ? 
Where  did  you  learn  so  much  ?' 

Again  the  bright  eyes  cheerily 
Looked  up  from  step  and  stool  ; 

They  answered  (mark  the  answer  well !) 
'  We  learnt  it  all  at  school  /' 

At  school,  at  school !     And  shall  we  take 

The  Book  of  books  away  ! 
Withhold  it  from  the  little  ones  ? 

Leave  them  at  will  to  stray — 

Upon  dark  mountains,  helplessly, 

Without  the  guiding  light 
That  God  entrusts  to  us,  until 

They  perish  in  the  night  ? 

What  was  the  world  before  that  Book 
Went  forth  in  glorious  might  ? 

Availed  the  lore  of  Greece  and  Rome 
To  chase  its  Stygian  night? 


We  send  the  messengers  of  life 

To  many  a  distant  strand, 
And  shall  we  tie  the  tongues  that  teach 

The  poor  of  our  own  land  ? 

Shall  husks  and  chaff  be  freely  given, 

And  not  the  Bread  of  Life  ? 
And  shall  the  Word  of  Peace  become 

A  centre  of  mad  strife  ? 

Shall  those  who  name  the  Name  of  Christ 

His  own  great  gift  withhold  ? 
Our  Lamp,    our  Chart,   our  Sword,    our 
Song, 

Our  Pearl,  our  most  fine  Gold  ! 

Why  would  ye  have  *  no  Bible  taught  ?' 

Is  it  for  fear?  or  shame  ? 
Out,  out  upon  such  coward  hearts, 

False  to  their  Master's  name  ! 

If  God  be  God,  if  truth  be  truth, 

If  Christian  men  be  men, 
Let  them  arise  and  fight  the  -fight, 

Though  it  were  one  to  ten  ! 

With  battle-cry  of  valiant  faith, 

Let  Britain's  sons  arise,  — 
'  Our  children  shall  be  taught  the  Word 

That  only  maketh  wise  !' 

So,  dauntlessly,  will  we  unfurl 
Our  banner  bright  and  broad, 

The  cause  of  His  dear  Word  of  Life, 
Our  cause,  the  Cause  of  God. 


TELL  IT  OUT. 

« Tell  it  out  among  the  heathen  that  the  Lord 
is  King.'— Ps.  xcvi.  10. 
(Prayer -Book  Version.) 

TELL  it  out  among  the  heathen  that  the 
Lord  is  King ! 

Tell  it  out,  tell  it  out ! 


SISTERS. 


223 


Tell  it  out  among  the  nations,  bid  them 

shout  and  sing  ! 

Tell  it  out,  tell  it  out ! 
Tell  it  out  with  adoration,  that  He  shall 

increase  ; 
That   the  mighty  King  of  Glory  is   the 

King  of  Peace. 
Tell  it  out  with  jubilation,   though  the 

waves  may  roar, 
That  He  sitteth  on  the  water-floods,  our 

King  for  evermore  I 
Tell  it  out,  etc. 

Tell  it  out  among  the  nations  that  the 

Saviour  reigns  ! 

Tell  it  out,  tell  it  out ! 
Tell  it  out  among  the  heathen,  bid  them 

burst  their  chains ! 

Tell  it  out,  tell  it  out ! 
Tell  it  out  among  the  weeping  ones  that 

Jesus  lives  ; 
Tell  it  out  among  the  weary  ones  what 

rest  He  gives  ; 
Tell  it  out  among  the   sinners  that  He 

came  to  save ; 
Tell  it  out   among   the   dying  that  He 

triumphed  o'er  the  grave. 
Tell  it  out,  etc. 

Tell  it  out  among  the  heathen  Jesus  reigns 

above ! 

Tell  it  out,   etc. 
Tell  it  out  among  the  nations  that  His 

name  is  Love  ! 

Tell  it  out,  tell  it  out ! 
Tell  it  out  among  the  highways,  and  the 

lanes  at  home  ; 
Let  it  ring  across  the  mountains  and  the 

ocean  foam ; 
Like  the  sound  of  many  waters  let  our 

glad  shout  be, 


Till  it  echo  and  re-echo  from  the  islands 
of  the  sea  ! 

Tell  it  out,  etc. 


OH  !  for  a  fiery  scroll,  and  a  trumpet  of 

thunder  might, 
To  startle  the  silken  dreams  of  English 

women  at  ease, 
Circled  with  peace  and  joy,  and  dwelling 

where  truth  and  light 
Are  shining  fair  as  the  stars,  and  free  as 
the  western  breeze  1 

Oh  I  for  a  clarion  voice  to  reaca  and  stir 

their  nest, 
With  the  story  of  sisters'  woes  gathering 

day  by  day 
Over  the  Indian  homes  (sepulchres  rather 

than  rest), 

Till  they  rouse  in  the  strength  of  the 
Lord,  and  roll  the  stone  away. 

Sisters  I  Scorn  not  the  name,  for  ye  can- 
not alter  the  fact ! 
Deem  ye  the  darker  tint  of  the  glowing 

South  shall  be 
Valid  excuse  above  for  the   Priest's  and 

Levite's  act, 

If  ye  pass  on  the  other  side,   and  say 
that  ye  did  not  see  ? 

Sisters  I    Yea,  and  they  lie,  not  by  the 
side  of  the  road, 

But  hidden  in  loathsome  caves,  in  crushed 
and  quivering  throngs, 

Down-trodden,   degraded,  and  dark,  be- 
neath the  invisible  load 
Of  centuries,    echoing   groans,    black 
with  inherited  wrongs. 


224 


UNDER  THE  SURFACE. 


Made  like  our  own  strange  selves,   with 

memory,  mind,  and  will ; 
Made  with  a  heart  to  love,  and  a  soul 

to  live  forever  ! 
Sisters  I     Is  there  no  chord  vibrating  in 

musical  thrill, 

At  the  fall  of  that  gentle  word,  to  issue 
in  bright  endeavor? 

Sisters  !    Ye  who  have  known  the  Elder 

Brother's  love, — 
Ye  who  have  sat  at  His  feet,  and  leant 

on  His  gracious  breast, 
Whose  hearts  are  glad  with  the  hope  of 

His  own  blest  home  above, 
Will  ye  not  seek  them  out,   and  lead 
them  to  Him  for  rest  ? 

Is  it  too  great  a  thing  ?     Will  not  one  rise 

and  go, 
Laying  her  joys  aside,   as  the  Master 

laid  them  down  ? 
Seeking  His  lone  and  lost  in  the  veiled 

abodes  of  woe, 

Winning  His  Indian  gems  to  shine  in 
His  glorious  crown  ! 


AN  INDIAN  FLAG. 
THE  golden  gates  were  opening 

For  another  welcome  guest  ; 
For  a  ransomed  heir  of  glory 

Was  entering  into  rest : 

The  first  in  far  Umritsur 
Who  heard  the  joyful  sound, 

The  first  who  came  to  Jesus 
Within  its  gloomy  bound. 

The  wonderers  and  the  watchers 
Around  his  dying  bed, 

Saw  Christ's  own  fearless  witness 
Safe  through  the  valley  led. 


And  they  whose  faithful  sowing 
Had  not  been  all  in  vain, 

Knew  that  the  angels  waited 
Their  sheaf  of  ripened  grain. 

He  spoke  :  '  Throughout  the  city 
How  many  a  flag  is  raised 

Where  loveless  deities  are  owned, 
And  powerless  gods  are  praised  ! 

'  I  give  my  house  to  Jesus, 

That  it  may  always  be 
A  flag  for  Christ,  the  Son  of  God, 

Who  gave  Himself  for  me. ' 

And  now  in  far  Umritsur 
That  flag  is  waving  bright, 

Amid  the  heathen  darkness, 
A  clear  and  shining  light. 

A  house  where  all  may  gather 
The  words  of  peace  to  hear, 

And  seek  the  only  Saviour 
Without  restraint  or  fear  ; 

Where  patient  toil  of  teaching, 
And  kindly  deeds  abound  ; 

Where  holy  festivals  are  kept, 
And  holy  songs  resound. 

First  convert  of  Umritsur, 
Well  hast  thou  led  the  way  ; 

Now,  who  will  rise  and  follow  ? 
Who  dares  to  answer,  '  Nay '  ? 

O  children  of  salvation  ! 

O  dwellers  in  the  light ! 
Have  ye  no  '  flag  for  Jesus, 

Far-waving,  fair,  and  bright  ? 

Will  ye  not  band  together, 
And,  working  hand  in  hand, 

Set  up  a  '  flag  for  Jesus,' 
In  that  wide  heathen  land  ? 


THE   LULL   OF   ETERNITY. 


225 


In  many  an  Indian  city, 
Oh,  let  a  standard  wave, 

Our  gift  of  love  and  honor, 
To  Him  who  came  to  save  ; 

To  Him  beneath  whose  banner 
Of  wondrous  love  we  rest ; 

Our  Friend,  the  Friend  of  sinners, 
The  Greatest  and  the  Best. 


THE  LULL  OF  ETERNITY* 

MANY  a  voice  has  echoed  the  cry  for  '  a 
'  lull  in  life/ 

Fainting  under  the  noontide,  fainting  un- 
der the  strife. 

Is  it  the  wisest  longing  ?  is  it  the  truest 
gain  ? 

Is  not  the  Master  withholding  possible  loss 
and  pain  ? 

Perhaps  if  He  sent  the  lull,  we  might  fail 

of  our  heart's  desire  ! 
Sv/ift  and  sharp  the  concussion   striking 

out  living  fire, 
Mighty  and  long  the  friction  resulting  in 

living  glow, 
Heat  that  is  forced  of  the  Spirit,  energy 

fruitful  in  flow. 

What  if  the  blast  should  falter,  what  if 
the  fire  be  stilled, 

What  if  the  molten  metal  cool  ere  the 
mould  be  filled  ? 

What  if  the  hands  hang  down  when  a 
work  is  almost  done  ? 

What  if  the  sword  be  dropped  when  a  bat- 
tle is  almost  won  ? 


Sequel  to  'A  Lull  in  Life.'     See   The  Min- 
istry of  Song,  p.  199  (Pocket  Edition). 
15 


Past  many  an  unseen  Maelstrom  the  strong 

wind  drives  the  skiff, 
When  a  lull  might  drift  it  onward  to  fatal 

swirl  or  cliff. 
Faithful  the  guide  that  spurreth,  sternly 

forbidding  repose, 
When  treacherous  slumber  lureth  to  pause 

amid  Alpine  snows. 

The  lull  of  Time  may  be  darkness,  falling 

in  lonely  night, 
But  the  lull  of  Eternity  neareth,  rising  in 

full  calm  light ; 
The  earthly  lull  may  be  silence,  desolate, 

deep  and  cold, 
But  the   heavenly  lull    shall   be   music 

sweeter  a  thousand-fold. 

Here,  it  is  '  calling  apart/  and  the  place 

may  be  desert  indeed, 
Leaving  and  losing  the  blessings   linked 

with  our  busy  need  ; 
There  / — why  should  I  say  it  ?  hath  not 

the  heart  leapt  up, 
Swift  and  glad,  to  the  contrast,  filling  the 

full,  full  cup? 

Still  shall  the  key-word,  ringing,  echo  the 

same  sweet  '  Come  / ' 
'  Come '  with  the  blessed  myriads  safe  in 

the  Father's  home ; 
'  Come' — for  the  work  is  over;  'come' — 

for  the  feast  is  spread  ; 
Come ' — for  the  crown  of  glory  waits  for 

the  weary  head. 

When  the  rest  of  faith  is  ended,  and  the 

rest  in  hope  is  past, 
The  rest  of  love  remaineth,   Sabbath  of 

life  at  last 


226 


UNDER   THE   SURFACE. 


No  more  fleeting  hours,   hurrying  down 

the  day, 
But  golden  stillness  of  glory,  never  to  pass 

away. 

Time  with  its  pressure  of  moments,  mock- 
ing us  as  they  fell 

With  relentless  beat  of  a  footstep,  hour 
by  hour  the  knell 

Of  a  hope  or  an  aspiration,  then  shall 
have  passed  away, 

Leaving  a  grand  calm  leisure,  leisure  of 
endless  day. 

Leisure  that  cannot  be  dimmed  by   the 

touch  of  time  or  place, 
Finding  its  counterpart  measure  only  in 

infinite  space  ; 
Full,  and  yet  ever  filling,  leisure  without 

alloy, 
Eternity's  seal  on  the  limitless  charter  of 

heavenly  joy. 

Leisure  to  fathom  the  fathomless,  leisure 
to  seek  and  to  know 

Marvels  and  secrets  and  glories  eternity 
only  can  show  ; 

Leisure  of  holiest  gladness,  leisure  of  holi- 
est love, 

Leisure  to  drink  from  the  Fountain  of  in- 
finite peace  above. 

Art  thou   patiently  toiling,    waiting  the 

Master's  will, 
For  a  rest  that  never  seems  nearer,  a  hush 

that  is  far  off  still  ? 
Does  it  seem  that  the  noisy  city  never  will 

let  thee  hear 
The  sound  of  His  gentle  footsteps  drawing, 

it  may  be,  near  ? 


Does  it  seem  that  the  blinding  dazzle  of 

noonday  glare  and  heat 
Is  a  fiery  veil  between  thy  heart  and  visions 

high  and  sweet? 
What  though  'a  lull  in  life '  may  never  be 

made  for  thee  ? 
Soon  shall  a  '  better  thing '  be  thine,  the 

Lull  of  Eternity  ! 


THE  SOWERS. 

IN  the  morning  sow  thy  seed,  nor  stay  thy 

hand  at  evening  hour, 
Never   asking  which  shall  prosper — both 

may  yield  thee  fruit  and  flower  : 
Thou   shalt   reap   of  that   thou   sowest  ; 

though  thy  grain  be  small  and  bare, 
God  shall  clothe  it  as  He  pleases,  for  the 

harvest  full  and  fair  ; 
Though  it  sink  in  turbid  waters,  hidden 

from  thy  yearning  sight, 
It   shall   spring  in  strength  and   beauty, 

ripening  in  celestial  light ; 
Ever  springing,  ever  ripening  ; — not  alone 

in  earthly  soil, 
Not  alone  among  the  shadows,  where  the 

weary  workers  toil ; 
Gracious  first-fruits  there  may  meet  thee 

of  the  reaping-time  begun  ; 
But  upon  the  Hill   of  Zion,  'neath  the 

Uncreated  Sun, 
First  the  fulness  of  the  blessing  shull  the 

faithful  laborer  see, 
Gathering  fruit  to  life  eternal,  harvest  of 

Eternity. 

Let   us  watch  awhile  the  sowers,  let  us 

mark  their  tiny  grain, 
Scattered  oft  in  doubt  and  trembling,  sown 

in  weakness  or  in  pain  ; 


THE   SOWERS. 


227 


Then  let  Faith,  with  radiant  finger,  lift 
the  veil  from  unseen  things, 

Where  the  golden  sheaves  are  bending  and 
the  harvest  anthem  rings. 


4  Such  as  I  have  I  sow,  it  is  not  much, 
Said  one  who  loved  the  Master  of  the 

field; 

'  Only  a  quiet  word,  a  gentle  touch 
Upon    the   hidden  harp-strings,  which 

may  yield 

No  quick  response ;  1  tremble,  yet  I  speak 
For  Him  who  knows  the  heart,  so  loving, 
yet  so  weak. ' 

And  so  the  words  were  spoken,  soft  and 

low, 

Or  traced  with  timid  pen  ;  yet  oft  they 
fell 

On  soil  prepared,  which  she  would  never 

know 
Until  the  tender  blade  sprang  up,  to  tell 

That  not  in  vain  her  labor  had  been  spent  ; 

Then  with  new  faith  and  hope  more  brave- 
ly on  she  went. 

ii. 

'  I  had  much  seed  to  sow/  said  one  ;   '  I 

planned 
To  fill  broad  furrows,  and  to  watch  it 

spring 
And   water  it  with  care.     But   now   the 

hand 
Of  Him  to  whom  I  sought  great  sheaves 

to  bring, 

Is  laid  upon  His  laborer,  and  I  wait, 
Weak,  helpless,  useless,  at  His  palace  gate. 

'-Now  I  have  nothing,  only  day  by  day 
Grace  to  sustain  me  till  the  day  is  done  ; 


And  some  sweet  passing  glimpses  by  the 

way 

Of  Him,  the  Altogether  Lovely  One  ; 
And  some  strange  things  to  learn,  unlearnt 

before, 
That  make  the  suffering  light,   if  it  but 

teach  me  more.' 

Yet,  from  the  hush  of  that  secluded  room, 
Forth  floated  winged  seeds  of  thought 

and  prayer ; 
These,   reaching  many  a  desert  place  to 

bloom, 
And  pleasant  fruit  an  hundred-fold  to 

bear  ; 
Those,  wafted  heavenward  with  song  and 

sigh, 
To  fall  again  with  showers  of  blessing  from 

on  high. 

in. 

'  What  can  I  sow  ?'  thought  one,  to  whom 

God  gave 
Sweet  notes  and  skilful  fingers.      '  Can 

my  song 

Be  cast  upon  the  waters,  as  they  lave 
My  feet  with  grateful  echo,   soft  and 

long, 

Or  break  in  sunny  spray  of  fair  applaud  ? 
Shall  this  be  found  one  day  as  fruit  to 

Thee,  my  God  ?' 

He  sang,    and   all   were   hushed.      Oh, 

sweeter  fall 
The  notes  that  pour  from  fervent  fount 

of  love, 

Than  studied  flow  of  sweetest  madrigal  ! 
He   sang  of  One  who  listened   from 

above, 

He  cast  the  song  at  His  belovdd  feet ; — 
Some  said,    '  How  strange  !'   And  others 

felt,  '  How  sweet !' 


228 


UNDER   THE    SURFACE. 


IV. 

Another  stood,  with  basket  stored  indeed, 
And  powerful  hand  both  full  and  faith- 
ful found, 
And  cast  God's  own  imperishable  seed 

Upon  the  darkly  heaving  waste  around : 
Yet  oft  in  weariness,  and  oft  in  woe, 
Did  that  good  sower  store,  and  then  go 
forth  to  sow. 

The  tide  of  human  hearts  still  ebbed  and 

flowed, 
Less  like  the  fruitful  flood  than  barren 

sea; 

He  saw  not  where  it  fell,  and  yet  he  sowed  : 
'  Not  void  shall  it  return,'  said  God,  'to 

Me!' 

The  precious  seed,  so  swiftly  borne  away, 
A  singing   reaper's  hand  shall   fill   with 

sheaves  one  day. 

v. 

Another  watched  the  sowers  longingly. 
4 1  cannot  sow  such  seed  as  they/  he  said  ; 
'  No  shining  grain  of  thought  is  given  to 

me, 

No  fiery  words  of  power  bravely  sped  : 
Will  others  give  me   of  their  bounteous 

store  ? 
My  hand  may  scatter  that,  if  I  can  do  no 

more/ 

So  by  the  wayside  he  went  forth  to  sow 
The  silent  seeds,  each  wrapped  in  fruitful 

prayer, 

With  glad  humility  ;  content  to  know 
The  volume  lent,  the  leaflet  culled  with 

care, 
The  message  placed   in   stranger  hands, 

were  all 
Beneath  His  guiding  eye   who  notes  the 

sparrow's  fall. 


VI. 

An  opening  blossom,  bright  with  early 
dew, 

Whose  rosy  lips  had  touched  the  Living 
Spring 

Before  the  thirst  of  earth  was  felt ;  who 
knew 

The  children's  Saviour  and  the  children's 
King, 

Said,  '  What  can  I  sow,  mother  ?'  '  Dar- 
ling boy, 

Show  all  how  glad  He  makes  you  ;  scatter 
love  and  joy !' 

That  sparkling  seed  he  took  in  his  small 

hand 

And  dropped  it  tenderly  beside  the  flow 
Of  sorrows  that  he  could  not  understand, 
And  cast  it  lovingly  upon  the  snow 
That  shrouded  aged  hearts,  and  joyously 
Upon  the   dancing   waves   of  playmates' 

thoughtless  glee. 

VII. 

'  What  seed  have  I  to  sow?'  said  one.      '  I 

lie 
In  stilled  and  darkened  chamber,  lone  and 

low  ; 

The  silent  days  and  silent  nights  pass  by 
In  monotone  of  dimness.     Could  I  throw 
Into  the  nearest  furrow  one  small  seed, 
It  would  be  life  again,  a  blessed  life  in- 
deed !' 

And  so  she  lay  through  lingering  month 

and  year, 

No  word  for  Him  to  speak,  no  work  to  do; 
Only  to  suffer  and  be  still,  and  hear 
That  yet  the  Golden  Gate  was  not  in  view  ; 
While  hands  of  love  and  skill,  this  charge 

to  keep, 
Must  leave  the  whitening  plain,  where 

others  now  would  reap. 


THOUGH  THE   SERVICE   OF   ITS  SOW, 
NEVER   FALTERS   OR    GROWS   COLD, 
THOUGH   THE   BILLOWS   OF   ITS   PRAISE 
NEVER   DIE   UPON   THE  SHORE. 


Page  229. 


THE  SOWERS. 


229 


Such  the  sowing;  what  the  reaping  ?  Many 

a  full  and  precious  ear 
Waved  and  ripened,  fair  and  early,  for  the 

patient  sowers'  cheer. 
Not  without  some  gracious  witness    of 

God's  faithfulness  and  love 
Toiled  they,  waiting  for  the  coming  of  the 

harvest- home  above ; 
Word,  and  prayer,  and  song,  and   leaflet, 

found,  though  after  many  days, 
Quickening  energy  and  courage,  brighten- 
ing hope  and  wakening  praise. 
Yet  how  many  a  seed  seemed   trodden 

under  foot,  and  left  to  die, 
Lost,  forgotten  by  the  sower,  never  traced 

by  human  eye  ; 
Many  a  worker  meekly  saying,    '  Lord, 

how  thankful  will  I  be, 
If  but  one  among  a  thousand  may  bring 

forth  good  fruit  to  Thee  !' 


One  by  one,  no  longer 

Gently  bid  to  wait ; 
One  by  one,  they  entered 

Through  the  Golden  Gate 

One  by  one  they  fell  adoring 

At  the  Master's  feet, 

Heard  His  welcome,  deep  and  thrilling, 
'  Enter  thou  !'  each  full  heart  filling, 
All  its  need  for  ever  stilling — 

All  its  restless  beat. 

Then  the  gift,  the  free,  the  glorious, 
Life  with  Him,  eternal  life,— 

Erst  bestowed  amid  the  weeping, 

And  the  weary  vigil-keeping, 
And  the  bitter  strife, — 

Now  in  mighty  consummation, 
First  in  all  its  fulness  known, 


Dower  of  glory  all  transcendent, 
Everlasting  and  resplendent, 
Is  their  own  ! 

All  their  own,  through  Him  who  loved 
them, 

And  redeemed  them  unto  God  ! 
New  and  living  revelation 
Of  the  marvels  of  salvation, 
Wakes  new  depths  of  adoration, 

New  and  burning  laud. 

Now  they  see  their  gracious  Master, 

See  Him  face  to  face ! 
Now  they  know  the  great  transition 
From  the  veiled  to  veil-less  vision, 

In  that  bright  and  blessed  place. 

What  a  change  has  passed  upon  them  ! 

Made  like  Him,  the  Perfect  One, — 
Made  like  Him  whose  joy  they  enter, 
Him,  the  only  Crown  and  Centre 

Of  the  endless  bliss  begun. 


But  Eternity  is  long, 

And  its  joys  are  manifold  I 
Though  the  service  of  its  song 

Never  falters  or  grows  cold, 
Though  the  billows  of  its  praise 

Never  die  upon  the  shore, 
Though  the  blessed  harpers  raise 

Alleluias  evermore, 
Though  the  eye  grows  never  dim 

Gazing  on  that  mighty  Sun, 
Ever  finding  all  in  Him, 

Every  joy  complete  in  one  ; — 
Yet  THE  INFINITE  is  He, 

In  His  Wisdom  and  His  Might  ; 
And  it  needs  eternity 

To  reveal  His  Love  and  Light 


230 


UNDER  THE   SURFACE. 


To  the  finite  and  created  ! 

Archangelic  mind  and  heart 
Never  with  His  bliss  was  sated, 

Never  knew  the  thousandth  part 
Of  the  all- mysterious  rays 

Flowing  from  Essential  Light, 
Hiding  in  approachless  blaze 

God  Himself,  the  Infinite. 

Infinite  the  ocean-joy 

Opening  to  His  children's  view  ; 
Infinite  their  varied  treasure, 
Meted  not  by  mortal  measure — 
Holy  knowledge,  holy  pleasure, 
Through  Eternity's  great  leisure, 

Like  its  praises,  ever  new. 

So  the  blessed  sowers'  gladness 

In  the  free  and  royal  grace 
Should  be  crowned  with  added  glory, 
Woven  with  their  earthly  story, 
Linked  with  time  and  place. 

Glad  surprise  !  for  every  service 

Overflowing  their  reward  ! 
No  more  sowing,  no  more  weeping, 
Only  grand  and  glorious  reaping, 
All  the  blessing  of  their  Lord. 


She  who  timidly  had  scattered 

Trembling  line  or  whispered  word, 
Till  the  holy  work  grew  dearer, 
And  the  sacred  courage  clearer, 
Now  her  Master's  own  voice  heard. 

Calling  shining  throngs  around  her, 

All  her  own  fair  harvest  found  ; 
Then,  her  humble  name  confessing, 
With  His  radiant  smile  of  blessing, 
All  her  dower  of  gladness  crowned. 


ii. 

'  Welcome  thou,  whose  heavenly  message 

Came  with  quickening  power  to  me  ! 
O  most  welcome  to  the  portals 
Of  this  home  of  bright  immortals, 
I  have  waited  long  for  thee  !' 

'  Who  art  thou  ?     I  never  saw  thee 

In  my  pilgrimage  below,' 
Said  he,  marvelling.      '  I  will  show  thee, ' 
Answered  he,  '  the  love  I  owe  thee, 
Full  and  fervent,  for  I  know  thee 

By  the  starlight  on  thy  brow. 

'  Words  that  issued  from  thy  chamber 

Turned  my  darkness  into  light  ; 
Guided  footsteps,  weak  and  weary, 
Through  the  desert  wild  and  dreary, 
Through  the  valley  of  the  night. 

'  Come,  for  many  another  waits  thee  ! 

All  unfolded  thou  shalt  see, 
Through  the  ecstatic  revelation 
Of  their  endless  exultation, 

What  our  God  hath  wrought  by  thee. ' 

in. 

Hark  !  a  voice  all  joy-inspiring 

Peals  adown  the  golden  floor, 
Leading  on  a  white-robed  chorus, 
Sweet  as  flute,  and  yet  sonorous 
As  the  many  waters'  roar. 

He  who  sang  for  Jesus  heard  it ! 

'  'Tis  the  echo  of  thy  song  !' 
Said  the  leader.      '  As  we  listened, 
Cold  hearts  glowed  and  dim  eyes  glistened, 

And  we  learned  to  love  and  long — 

'  Till  the  longing  and  the  loving 
Soared  to  Him  of  whom  you  sang  ; 


THE   SOWERS. 


231 


Till  our  Alleluia,  swelling, 
Through  the  glory  all -excelling, 
Up  the  jasper  arches  rang. ' 

IV. 

'Mid  the  angel-constellations, 

Like  a  star  of  purest  flame, 
Shining  with  exceeding  brightness, 
Robed  in  snowy-glistering  whiteness, 

Now  a  singing  reaper  came  ; 

Came  with  fulness  of  rejoicing 
That  beloved  smile  to  meet  : 
'  Master,  lo,  I  come  with  singing, 
Myriad  sheaves  of  glory  bringing 
To  Thy  dear  and  blessed  feet. ' 

Followed  o'er  the  golden  crystal 

Glittering  hosts  with  crown  and  palm  ; 
Joining  him  whose  voice  had  taught  them, 
To  the  praise  of  Him  who  bought  them, 
In  a  new  and  rapturous  psalm. 


He  who  humbly  watched  the  sowers, 
Watched  the  reapers  of  the  Lord  ; 

Sharing  all  their  jubilation, 

Hailing  every  coronation, 

Gladdened  by  their  great  reward. 

'  Seed  of  others  long  1  scattered, 
Now  their  harvest  joy  is  mine, 

Kindling  holy  contemplation 

Into  glowing  adoration, 
Into  ecstasy  divine. ' 

So  he  chanted.     But  the  Master 

Beckoned  through  the  shining  throng  ; 

While  the  praises  of  the  choir 

Rose  into  that  silence,  higher 
Than  the  highest  flight  of  song. 


Great  and  gracious  words  were  spoken 

Of  his  faithful  service  done, 
By  the  Voice  that  thrills  all  heaven ; 
And  mysterious  rule  was  given 

To  that  meek  and  marvelling  one. 

VI. 

Found  the  little  child  rich  harvest 

From  his  tiny  seed  of  love  ; 
Little  footsteps  followed  surely 
In  the  footprints  marked  so  purely, 

Till  they  met  again  above. 

Aged  ones  and  feeble  mourners 
Felt  the  solace  of  his  smile  ; 
Hastened  on  with  footsteps  lighter, 
Battled  on  with  courage  brighter, 
Through  the  lessening  'little  while/ 

Till  they  too  had  joined  the  mansions 

Where  the  weary  are  at  rest. 
Could  that  little  one  forget  them  ? 
Oh,  how  joyously  he  met  them 

In  this  dear  home  safe  and  blest ! 

And  the  Saviour,  who  had  called  him, 

Smiled  upon  His  little  one  ; 
On  his  brow,  so  fair  and  tender, 
Set  a  crown  of  heavenly  splendor, 

With  the  gracious  word,  '  Well  done  ! ' 

VII. 

Yet  again  a  wondrous  anthem 

Rang  across  the  crystal  sea  ; 
ilarps  and  voices  all  harmonious, 
Nearer,  nearer,  sweet,  symphonious, 

Meet  for  heaven's  own  jubilee. 

One  by  one  the  singers  gathered, 
Ever  swelling  that  great  song, 

Till  a  mighty  chorus  thundered, 
Till  the  listening  seraphs  wondered, 
As  its  triumph  pealed  along. 


232 


UNDER  THE   SURFACE. 


On  ward -came  they  with  rejoicing, 
Bearing  one  upon  their  wings, 
With  their  waving  palms  victorious, 
Tc  the  presence-chamber  glorious 
Of  the  very  King  of  kings. 

And  a  whisper,  clear  and  thrilling, 
Fell  upon  her  ravished  ear — 

'  Lo,  thy  harvest  song  ascending  ! 

Lo,  thy  golden  sheaves  are  bending 
Full  and  precious,  round  thee  here  ! ' 

'Nay/  she  said,   '  I  have  no  harvest, 

For  I  had  no  power  to  sow  ; 
Burdening  others,  daily  dying, 
Year  by  year  in  weakness  lying, 
Still  and  silent,  lone  and  low.' 

Then  a  flash  of  sudden  glory 

Lit  her  long  life-mystery  ; 
By  that  heavenly  intuition 
All  the  secret  of  her  mission 

Shone,  revealed  in  radiancy. 

And  she  knew  the  sweet  memorials 

Of  her  hidden  life  had  shed 
Glories  on  the  sufferer's  pillow, 
Calmness  on  the  darkling  billow, 
Peace  upon  the  dying  bed. 

Thousand,  thousand-fold  her  guerdon, 
Thousand,  thousand-fold  her  bliss  1 

While  His  cup  of  suffering  sharing, 

All  His  will  so  meekly  bearing, 

He  was  gloriously  preparing 
This  for  her,  and  her  for  this  ! 


He  that  goeth  forth  and  weepeth,  seed  of 

grace  in  sorrow  bringing, 
Laden  with  his  sheaves  of  glory,  doubtless 

shall  return  with  singing. 


"  BLESSED  BE  THE  GOD  AND  FATHER  OF 
OUR  LORD  JESUS  CHRIST,  WHO  HATH  BLESS- 
ED US  WITH  ALL  SPIRITUAL  BLESSINGS  IN 
HEAVENLY  PLACES  IN  CHRIST. " Eph.  \.  3. 

EVERLASTING  BLESSINGS. 

*  I  know  that  whatsoever  God  doeth,  it  shall  be 
for  ever.'— ECCLES.  iii.  14. 

OH,  what  everlasting  blessings  God  out- 
poureth  on  His  own  ! 

Ours  by  promise  true  and  faithful,  spoken 
from  the  eternal  throne  ; 

Ours  by  His  eternal  purpose,  ere  the  uni- 
verse had  place  : 

Ours  by  everlasting  covenant,  ours  by  free 
and  royal  grace. 

With  salvation  everlasting  He  shall  save 
us,  He  shall  bless 

With  the  largess  of  Messiah,  everlasting 
righteousness  ; 

Ours  the  everlasting  mercy,  all  His  won- 
drous dealings  prove ; 

Ours  His  everlasting  kindness,  fruit  of 
everlasting  love. 

In  the  Lord  Jehovah  trusting,  everlasting 
strength  have  we ; 

He  himself  our  Sun,  our  Glory,  Everlast- 
ing Light  shall  be  ; 

Everlasting  life  is  ours,  purchased  by  The 
Life  laid  down  ; 

And  our  heads,  oft  bowed  and  weary,  ever- 
lasting joy  shall  crown. 

We  shall  dwell  with  Christ  for  ever,  when 

the  shadows  flee  away, 
In  the  everlasting  glory  of  the  everlasting 

day. 


FAITHFUL  PROMISES. 


233 


Unto  Thee,  beloved   Saviour,    everlasting 

thanks  belong, 
Everlasting    adoration,    everlasting    laud 

and  song  ! 


ACCEPTED. 

1  Accepted  in  the  Beloved.'—  EPH.  i.  6. 
'Perfect  in  Christ  Jesus.'—  COL.  i.  28. 
'Complete  in  Him.'  —  COL.  ii.  10. 

ACCEPTED,  Perfect,  and  Complete, 
For  God's  inheritance  made  meet  1 
How  true,  how  glorious,  and  how  sweet  ! 

In  the  Beloved  —  by  the  King 
Accepted,  though  not  anything 
But  forfeit  lives  had  we  to  bring. 

And  perfect  in  Christ  Jesus  made, 
On  Him  our  great  transgressions  laid, 
We  in  His  righteousness  arrayed. 

Complete  in  Him,  our  glorious  Head, 
With  Jesus  raised  from  the  dead, 
And  by  His  mighty  Spirit  led  ! 

O  blessed  Lord,  is  this  for  me  ? 
Then  let  my  whole  life  henceforth  be 
One  Alleluia-song  to  Thee  ! 


FRESH  SPRINGS. 

'All  my  fresh  springs  shall  be  in  Thee.' — Ps. 

Ixxxvii.  7. 
(Prayer-Book  Version.} 

HEAR  the  Father's  ancient  promise  1 

Listen,  thirsty,  weary  one  ! 
'  I  will  pour  My  Holy  Spirit 

On  Thy  chosen  seed,  O  Son/ 
Promise  to  the  Lord's  Anointed, 

Gift  of  God  to  Him  for  thee  ! 
Now,  by  covenant  appointed, 

All  thy  springs  in  Him  shall  be. 


Springs  of  life  in  desert  places 

Shall  thy  God  unseal  for  thee  ; 
Quickening  and  reviving  graces, 

Dew-like,  healing,  sweet  and  free. 
Springs  of  sweet  refreshment  flowing, 

When  thy  work  is  hard  or  long, 
Courage,  hope,  and  power  bestowing, 

Lightening  labor  with  a  song. 

Springs  of  peace,  when  conflict  heightens, 

Thine  uplifted  eye  shall  see ; 
Peace  that  strengthens,  calms,  and  bright- 
ens, 

Peace  itself  a  victory. 
Springs  of  comfort,  strangely  springing, 

Through  the  bitter  wells  of  woe  ; 
Founts  of  hidden  gladness,  bringing 

Joy  that  earth  can  ne'er  bestow. 

Thine,  O  Christian,  is  this  treasure, 

To  Thy  risen  Head  assured  ! 
Thine  in  full  and  gracious  measure, 

Thine  by  covenant  secured  ! 
Now  arise  !  His  word  possessing, 

Claim  the  promise  of  the  Lord  ; 
Plead  through  Christ  for  showers  of  bless- 
ing, 

Till  the  Spirit  be  outpoured  ! 


FAITHFUL  PROMISES. 

(NEW  YEAR'S  HYMN.) 
ISA.  xli.  10. 

STANDING  at  the  portal 

Of  the  opening  year, 
Words  of  comfort  meet  us, 

Hushing  every  fear. 
Spoken  through  the  silence 

By  our  Father's  voice, 
Tender,  strong,  and  faithful, 

Making  us  rejoice. 


234 


UNDER   THE   SURFACE. 


Onward,  then,  and  fear  not, 
Children  of  the  Day  ! 

For  His  word  shall  never, 
Never  pass  away  ! 

I,  the  Lord,  am  with  thee, 

Be  thou  not  afraid  ! 
I  will  help  and  strengthen, 
Be  thou  not  dismayed  ! 
Yea,  I  will  uphold  thee 

With  My  own  Right  Hand ; 
Thou  art  called  and  chosen 
In  my  sight  to  stand. 

Onward,  then,  and  fear  not, 

Children  of  the  Day  ! 
For  His  word  shall  never, 
Never  pass  away  1 

For  the  year  before  us, 

Oh,  what  rich  supplies ! 
For  the  poor  and  needy 

Living  streams  shall  rise ; 
For  the  sad  and  sinful 

Shall  His  grace  abound  ; 
For  the  faint  and  feeble 
Perfect  strength  be  found. 
Onward,  then,  and  fear  not, 

Children  of  the  Day  ! 
For  His  word  shall  never, 
Never  pass  away  1 

He  will  never  fail  us, 

He  will  not  forsake  ; 
His  eternal  covenant 

He  will  never  break  ! 
Resting  on  His  promise, 
What  have  we  to  fear  ? 
God  is  all-sufficient 
For  the  coming  year. 

Onward,  then,  and  fear  not, 

Children  of  the  Day  ! 
For  His  word  shall  never, 
Never  pass  away  ! 


THE  FAITHFUL  COMFORTER. 

'The   Holy   Ghost— He  is  faithful.'  — 
HEB.  ix.  15,  23. 

To  Thee,  O  Comforter  Divine, 
For  all  Thy  grace  and  power  benign, 
Sing  we  Alleluia  ! 

To  Thee,  whose  faithful  love  had  place 
In  God's  great  Covenant  of  Grace, 
Sing  we  Alleluia ! 

To  Thee,  whose  faithful  voice  doth  win 
The  wandering  from  the  ways  of  sin, 
Sing  we  Alleluia  ! 

To  Thee,  whose  faithful  power  doth  heal, 
Enlighten,  sanctify,  and  seal, 
Sing  we  Alleluia  1 

To  Thee,  whose  faithful  truth  is  shown, 
By  every  promise  made  our  own, 
Sing  we  Alleluia ! 

To  Thee,  our  Teacher  and  our  Friend, 
Our  Faithful  Leader  to  the  end, 
Sing  we  Alleluia  ! 

To  Thee,  by  Jesus  Christ  sent  down, 
Of  all  His  gifts  the  sum  and  crown, 
Sing  we  Alleluia  ! 

To  Thee,  who  art  with  God  the  Son 
And  God  the  Father  ever  One, 

Sing  we  Alleluia  !     Amen  ! 


UNDER  HIS  SHADOW. 
(COMMUNION  HYMN.) 

*  I  sat  down  under    His    shadow  with  great 
delight.' — CANT.  ii.  3. 

SIT  down  beneath  His  shadow, 
And  rest  with  great  delight ; 

The  faith  that  now  beholds  Him 
Is  pledge  of  future  sight. 


THE  TRIUNE   PRESENCE. 


235 


Our  Master's  love  remember, 
Exceeding  great  and  free  ; 

Lift  up  thy  heart  in  gladness, 
For  He  remembers  thee. 

Bring  every  weary  burden, 
Thy  sin,  thy  fear,  thy  grief ; 

He  calls  the  heavy  laden, 
And  gives  them  kind  relief. 

His  righteousness  '  all  glorious ' 
Thy  festal  robe  shall  be  ; 

And  love  that  passeth  knowledge 
His  banner  over  thee. 

A  little  while,  though  parted, 
Remember,  wait,  and  love, 

Until  He  comes  in  glory, 
Until  we  meet  above  ; 

Till  in  the  Father's  kingdom 
The  heavenly  feast  is  spread, 

And  we  behold  His  beauty, 
Whose  blood  for  us  was  shed ! 


COVENANT  BLESSINGS. 

'  He  hath  made  with  me  an  everlasting  cove- 
nant, ordered  in  all  things,  and  sure.' 

2  SAM.  xxiii.  5. 

JEHOVAH'S  Covenant  shall  endure, 
All  ordered,  everlasting,  sure  ! 
O  child  of  God,  rejoice  to  trace 
Thy  portion  in  its  glorious  grace. 

'Tis  thine,  for  Christ  is  given  to  be 
The  Covenant  of  God  to  thee  ; 
In  Him,  God's  golden  scroll  of  light, 
The  darkest  truths  are  clear  and  bright. 

O  sorrowing  sinner,  well  He  knew, 
Ere  time  began,  what  He  would  do  ! 


Then  rest  thy  hope  within  the  veil ; 
His  covenant  mercies  shall  not  fail. 

O  doubting  one,  the  Eternal  Three 
Are  pledged  in  faithfulness  for  thee  ; 
Claim  every  promise,  sweet  and  sure, 
By  covenant  oath  of  God  secure. 

O  waiting  one,  each  moment's  fall 

Is  marked  by  love  that  planned  them 

all; 

Thy  times,  all  ordered  by  His  hand, 
In  God's  eternal  covenant  stand. 

O  feeble  one,  look  up  and  see 
Strong  consolation  sworn  for  thee  ; 
Jehovah's  glorious  arm  is  shown, 
His  covenant  strength  is  all  thine  own, 

O  mourning  one,   each  stroke  of  love 
A  covenant  blessing  yet  shall  prove  ; 
His  covenant  love  shall  be  thy  stay, 
His  covenant  grace  be  as  thy  day. 

O  Love  that  chose,  O  Love  that  died, 
O  Love  that  sealed  and  sanctified  ! 
All  glory,  glory,  glory  be, 
O  covenant  Triune  God,  to  Thee  ! 


THE  TRIUNE  PRESENCE. 
(BIRTHDAY,  OR  NEW  YEAR'S   HYMN.) 
1  Certainly  I  will  be  with  thee.' — Ex.  iii.  12. 

'  CERTAINLY  I  will  be  with  thee  !    Father, 

I  have  found  it  true  : 
To  Thy  faithfulness  and  mercy  I  would 

set  my  seal  anew. 
All  the  year  Thy  grace  hath  kept  me, 

Thou  my  help  indeed  hast  been, 
Marvellous  the  loving-kindness  every  day 

and  hour  hath  seen. 


236 


UNDER   THE   SURFACE. 


'Certainly  I  will  be  with  thee  ! '  Let  me 
feel  it,  Saviour  dear, 

Let  me  know  that  Thou  art  with  me, 
very  precious,  very  near. 

On  this  day  of  solemn  pausing,  with  Thy- 
self all  longing  still, 

Let  Thy  pardon,  let  Thy  presence,  let 
Thy  peace  my  spirit  fill. 

'  Certainly  I  will  be  with  thee  ! '     Blessed 

Spirit,  come  to  me, 
Rest  upon   me,  dwell  within  me,  let  my 

heart  Thy  temple  be  ; 
Through  the  trackless  year  before  me, 

Holy  One,  with  me  abide  ! 
Teach  me,  comfort  me,  and  calm  me,  be 

my  ever-present  Guide. 

'  Certainly  I  will  be  with  thee  ! '     Starry 

promise  in  the  night ! 
All  uncertainties,  like  shadows,  flee  away 

before  its  light. 
'Certainly  I  will  be  with  thee  ! '     He  hath 

spoken  :  I  have  heard  ! 
True  of  old,  and  true  this  moment,  I  will 

trust  Jehovah's  word. 


4 '  NEVERTHELESS    AFTERWARD.  "  —  Heb. 
xii.  ii. 

' '  AND      AFTERWARD      RECEIVE      ME      TO 

GLORY." — Ps.  Ixxiii.  24. 

NOW  AND  AFTERWARD. 

Now,  the  sowing  and  the  weeping, 
Working  hard  and  waiting  long  ; 

Afterward,  the  golden  reaping, 
Harvest  home  and  grateful  song. 


Now,  the  pruning,  sharp,  unsparing  ; 

Scattered  blossom,  bleeding  shoot ! 
Afterward,  the  plenteous  bearing 

Of  the  Master's  pleasant  fruit. 

Now,  the  plunge,  the  briny  burden, 
Blind,  faint  gropings  in  the  sea ; 

Afterward,  the  pearly  guerdon 
That  shall  make  the  diver  free. 

Now,  the  long  and  toilsome  duty 
Stone  by  stone  to  carve  and  bring  ; 

Afterward,  the  perfect  beauty 
Of  the  palace  of  the  King. 

Now,  the  tuning  and  the  tension, 
Wailing  minors,  discord  strong ; 

Afterward,  the  grand  ascension 
Of  the  Alleluia  song. 

Now,  the  spirit  conflict-riven, 
Wounded  heart,  unequal  strife  ; 

Afterward,  the  triumph  given, 
And  the  victor's  crown  of  life. 

Now,  the  training,  strange  and  lowly, 
Unexplained  and  tedious  now  ; 

Afterward,  the  service  holy, 

And  the  Master's  '  Enter  thou  I' 


'TEMPTED    AND  TRIED  P 

'  TEMPTED  and  tried  !' 

Oh  !  the  terrible  tide 
May  be  raging  and  deep,  may  be  wrath- 
ful and  wide  ! 

Yet  its  fury  is  vain, 

For  the  Lord  shall  restrain  ; 
And  forever  and  ever  Jehovah  shall  reign. 

'  Tempted  and  tried  !' 
There  is  One  at  thy  side, 
And  never  in  vain  shall  His  children  con- 
fide ! 


LISTENING   IN   DARKNESS — SPEAKING   IN   LIGHT. 


237 


He  shall  save  and  defend, 
For  He  loves  to  the  end, 
Adorable  Master  and  glorious  Friend  ! 

'  Tempted  and  tried  !' 
Whate'er  may  betide, 
In  His  secret  pavilion  His  children  shall 
hide! 

'Neath  the  shadowing  wing 
Of  Eternity's  King 

His  children  shall  trust  and  His  servants 
shall  sing. 

'Tempted  and  tried  !' 
Yet  the  Lord  shall  abide 
Thy  faithful  Redeemer,   thy  Keeper  and 
Guide, 

Thy  Shield  and  thy  Sword, 
Thine  exceeding  Reward  ! 
Then  enough  for  the  servant  to  be  as  his 
Lord! 

'  Tempted  and  tried  !' 
The  Saviour  who  died 

Hath  called  thee  to  suffer  and  reign  by 
His  side. 

His  cross  thou  shalt  bear, 
And  His  crown  thou  shalt  wear, 

And  forever  and  ever  His  glory  shalt  share. 


NOT  FORSAKEN. 

(Answer  to  an  extremely  beautiful  but  utterly 
melancholy  sonnet,  entitled  'Forsaken.') 

OH,  not  forsaken  I    God  gives  better  things 
Than  thou  hast  asked  in  the  forlornest 

hour. 
Love's   promises   shall   be  fulfilled   in 

power. 
Not  death,  but  life  ;  not  silence,   but  the 

strings 

Of  angel-harps  ;  no  deep,   cold  sea,  but 
springs 


Of  living  water ;  no  dim,  wearied  sight, 
Nor  time,  nor  tear-mist,  but  the  joy  of 

light  ; 
Not  sleep,   but  rest  that  happy  service 

brings  ; 

And  no  forgotten  name  thy  lot  shall  be 
But  God's  remembrance.     Thou  canst 

never  drift 
Beyond  His  love.     Would  I  could  reach 

thee  where 

The  shadows  droop  so  heavily,  and  lift 
The  cold  weight  from  thy  life  ! — And  if 

I  care 

For  one  unknown,  oh,  how  much  more 
doth  HE  1 


LISTENING    IN  DARKNESS- 
SPEAKING  IN  LIGHT. 

'  What  I  tell  you  in  darkness,  that  speak  ye  in 
light.' — MATT.  x.  27. 

HE  hath  spoken  in  the  darkness, 

In  the  silence  of  the  night, 
Spoken  sweetly  of  the  Father, 

Words  of  life  and  love  and  light. 
Floating  through  the  sombre  stillness 

Came  the  loved  and  loving  Voice, 
Speaking  peace  and  solemn  gladness, 

That  His  children  might  rejoice. 
What  He  tells  thee  in  the  darkness, 

Songs  He  giveth  in  the  night — 
Rise  and  speak  it  in  the  morning, 

Rise  and  sing  them  in  the  light  I 

He  hath  spoken  in  the  darkness, 

In  the  silence  of  thy  grief, 
Sympathy  so  deep  and  tender, 

Mighty  for  thy  heart  relief  ; 
Speaking  in  thy  night  of  sorrow 

Words  of  comfort  and  of  calm, 


238 


UNDER  THE   SURFACE. 


Gently  on  thy  wounded  spirit 
Pouring  true  and  healing  balm. 

What  He  tells  thee  in  the  darkness, 
Weary  watcher  for  the  day, 

Grateful  lip  and  life  should  utter 
When  the  shadows  flee  away. 

He  is  speaking  in  the  darkness, 

Though  thou  canst  not  see  His  face, 
More  than  angels  ever  needed, 

Mercy,  pardon,  love,  and  grace. 
Speaking  of  the  many  mansions, 

Where,  in  safe  and  holy  rest, 
Thou  shalt  be  with  Him  forever, 

Perfectly  and  always  blest 
What  He  tells  thee  in  the  darkness, 

Whispers  through  Time's  lonely  night, 
Thou  shalt  speak  in  glorious  praises, 

In  the  everlasting  light ! 


EVENING    TEARS   AND  MORN- 
ING SONGS. 

'Weeping  majr  endure  in  the  evening,  but 
singing  * cometh  in  the  morning.' — Ps.  xxx.  5 
(Margin}. 

IN  the  evening  there  is  weeping, 
Lengthening  shadows,  failing  sight : 

Silent  darkness  slowly  creeping 
Over  all  things  dear  and  bright 

In  the  evening  there  is  weeping, 
Lasting  all  the  twilight  through; 

Phantom  shadows,  never  sleeping, 
Wakening  slumbers  of  the  true. 

In  the  morning  cometh  singing, 
Cometh  joy  and  cometh  sight, 

When  the  sun  ariseth,  bringing 
Healing  on  his  wings  of  light 

In  the  morning  cometh  singing, 
Songs  that  ne'er  in  silence  end, 


Angel  minstrels  ever  bringing 
Praises  new  with  thine  to  blend. 

Are  the  twilight  shadows  casting 
Heavy  glooms  upon  thy  heart? 

Soon  in  radiance  everlasting 
Night  for  ever  shall  depart. 

Art  thou  weeping,  sad  and  lonely, 
Through  the  evening  of  thy  days? 

All  thy  sighing  shall  be  only 
Prelude  of  more  perfect  praise. 

Darkest  hour  is  nearest  dawning, 
Solemn  herald  of  the  day; 

Singing  cometh  in  the  morning, 
God  shall  wipe  thy  tears  away  1 


PEACEABLE  FRUIT. 

'  Nevertheless,  afterward  it  yieldeth  the  peace- 
able fruit  of  righteousness. ' — HEB.  xii.  n. 

WHAT  shall  Thine  <  afterward '  be,  O  Lord, 
For  this  dark  and  suffering  night  ? 

Father,  what  shall  Thine  '  afterward  '  be  ? 

Hast  Thou  a  morning  of  joy  for  me, 
And  a  new  and  joyous  light  ? 

What  shall  Thine  '  afterward  '  be,  O  Lord, 

For  the  moan  that  I  cannot  stay  ? 
Shall  it  issue  in  some  new  song  of  praise, 
Sweeter  than  sorrowless  heart  could  raise, 
When  the  night  hath  passed  away  ? 

What  shall  Thine  '  afterward  '  be,  O  Lord, 

For  this  helplessness  of  pain  ? 
A  clearer  view  of  my  home  above, 
Of  my  Father's  strength  and  my  Father's 

love  ? 
Shall  this  be  my  lasting  gain  ? 


RIGHT! 


239 


What  shall  Thine  '  afterward '  be,  O  Lord  ? 

How  long  must  Thy  child  endure  ? 
Thou  knowest !     Tis  well  that  I  know  it 

not  ! 
Thine  '  afterward '  cometh,  I  cannot  tell 

what, 
But  I  know  that  Thy  word  is  sure. 

What  shall  Thine  '  afterward  '  be,  O  Lord  ? 

I  wonder  and  wait  to  see, 
(While  to  Thy  chastening  hand   I  bow,) 
What '  peaceable  fruit '  may  be  ripening 
now, 

Ripening  fast  for  me  ! 


RIGHT/ 

SCENE    I. 

THE  summer  sun  was  high  and  strong, 
And  dust  was  on  the  traveller's  feet ; 

Oh,  weary  was  the  stage  and  long, 
And  burning  was  the  early  heat  1 

There  was  a  pause.       For  Ernest  stood 

Upon  the  borders  of  a  wood. 

Between  him  and  his  home  it  lay, 

Stretching  in  mystery  away  : 

What  might  be  there  he  could  not  tell 

Of  briery  steep,  or  mossy  dell, 

Of  bog  or  brake,  or  glen  or  glade, 

All  hidden  by  the  dim  green  shade. 

He  had  not  passed  that  way  before, 

And  wonderingly  he  waited  now, 
While  mystic  voices,  o'er  and  o'er, 

Soft  whispered  on  from  bough  to  bough. 
Oh,  was  it  only  wind  and  trees 

That  made  such  gentle  whisperings  ? 
Or  -vas  it  some  sweet  spirit  breeze 

That  bore  a  message  on  its  wings, 
And  bid  the  traveller  that  day 
Go  forward  on  his  woodland  way  ? 


How  should  he  know  ?     He  had  no  clue, 

And  more  than  one  fair  opening  lay 
Before  him,  where  the  broad  boughs  threw 

Cool,  restful  shade  across  the  way. 
Which  should  he  choose  ?     He  could  not 
trace 

The  onward  track  by  vision  keen  ; 
The  drooping  branches  interlace, 

Not  far  the  winding  paths  are  seen. 
Oh  for  a  sign  !    Were  choice  not  right, 

Was  no  return,  for  well  he  knew 
The  hours  were  short,  and  swift  the  night ; 

Once  entered,  he  must  hasten  through. 
For  what  hath  been  can  never  be 

As  if  it  had  not  been  at  all ; 
We  gaze,  but  never  more  can  we 

Retrace  one  footstep's  wavering  fall 
Oh,  how  we  need  from  day  to  day 
A  guiding  Hand  for  all  the  way  ! 
Oh,  how  we  need  from  hour  to  hour 
That  faithful,  ever-present  Power  ! 

Which  should  he  choose  ?     He  pondered 
long, 

And  with  the  sounds  of  bird  and  bee 
He  blent  an  oft-repeated  song, 

A  soft  and  suppliant  melody  : 

'  Oh,  for  a  light  from  heaven, 

Clear  and  divine, 
Now  on  the  paths  before  me 

Brightly  to  shine  ! 
Oh  for  a  hand  to  beckon  ! 

Oh  for  a  voice  to  say, 
"  Follow  in  firm  assurance — 

This  is  the  way  !  " 

6  Listening  to  mingling  voices, 

Seeking  a  guiding  hand, 
Watching  for  light  from  heaven, 

Waiting  I  stand  ; 


240 


UNDER  THE   SURFACE. 


Onward  and  homeward  pressing, 
Nothing  my  feet  should  stay, 

Might  I  but  plainly  hear  it, — 
"This  is  the  way!"' 

Was  it  indeed  an  answer  given, 

That  whispered  through  the  tree-tops 

o'er  him  ? 
Was  it  indeed  a  light  from  heaven 

That  fell  upon  the  path  before  him  ? 
Or  was  it  only  that  he  met 

The  wayward  playing  of  the  breeze, 
Parting  the  heavy  boughs  to  let 

The  sunshine  fall  among  the  trees  ? 
Again  he  listened — did  it  say, 
'  This  is  the  onward,  homeward  way ' 
Perhaps  it  did.     He  would  not  wait, 
But  pressing  towards  a  Mansion  Gate 
That,  yet  unseen,  all  surely  stood 
Beyond   the  untried,  unknown  wood, 
And  trusting  that  his  prayer  was  heard, 
Although  he  caught  no  answering  word, 
And  gazing  on  with  calm,  clear  eye 
The  straightest,  surest  path  to  spy 
(Not  seeking    out    the    smooth  and 

bright, 

If  he  might  only  choose  the  right), 
With  hopeful  heart  and  manly  tread, 
Into  the  forest  depths  he  sped. 


SCENE   II. 

Hours  flit  on,  and  the  sunshine  fails  in 

the  zenith  of  day  ; 

Hours  flit  on,  and  the  loud  wind  crash- 
es and  moans  o'er  the  ridge  ; 
Heavily  beateth  the  strong  rain,  lashing 

the  miry  clay, 

Hoarsely  roareth  the  torrent  under  the 
quivering  bridge. 


Under  the  shivering  pine-trees,   over  the 

slippery  stone, 
Over  the  rugged  boulder,  over  the  cold 

wet  weed, 
Ernest  the  traveller  passeth,  storm-beaten, 

weary  and  lone, 

Only  following  faintly  whither  the  path 
may  lead. 

Leading  down  to  the  valleys,  dank  in  the 

shadow  of  death, 

Leading  on  through  the  briers,  poison- 
ous, keen,  and  sore  ; 
Leading  up  to  the  grim  rocks,  mounted 

with  parting  breath, 
Only  to  gain  a  glimpse  of  sterner  toil 
before. 

Faint  and  wounded  and  bleeding,  hun- 
gry, thirsty,  and  chill, 
Hardly  a  step  before  him  seen  through 

the  tangled  brake, 
Rougher    and     wilder    the   storm-blast, 

steeper  the  thorn -grown  hill, 
Brave  heart  and  bright  eye  and  strong 
limb,  well  may  they  quiver  and  ache  1 

Was  it  indeed  the  right  way  ?     Was  it  a 

God-led  choice, 
Followed   in   faith  and  patience,    and 

chosen  not  for  ease  ? 

Was  it  a  false,  false  gleam,  and  a  mock- 
ing, mocking  voice 

That  fell   on  the  woodland   pathway, 
and  murmured  among  the  trees  ? 

O  the  dire  mistake  1    fatal   freedom   to 

choose  ! 

Had  he  but   taken  a  fair  path,    shel- 
tered, level  and  straight, 


RIGHT  ! 


24I 


Never  a  thorn  to  wound   him,   never  a 

stone  to  bruise, 

Leading    safely   and  softly  on    to  the 
Mansion  Gate  ! 

Was  it  the  wail  of  a  wind-harp,  cadencing 

weird  and  long, 
Pulsing   under  the  pine-trees,  dying  to 

wake  again  ? 
Is  it  the  voice  of  a  brave  heart  striving  to 

utter  in  song 

Agony,    prayer,   and  reliance,  courage 
and  wonder  and  pain  ? 

'  Onward  and  homeward  ever, 

Battling  with  dark  distress, 
Faltering,  but  yielding  never, 

Still  shall  my  faint  feet  press. 
Why  was  no  beckoning  hand 

Sent  in  my  doubt  and  need  ? 
Why  did  no  true  guide  stand 

Guiding  me  right  indeed  ? 
Why  j>     They  will  tell  me  all 

When  I  have  reached  the  gate, 
Where,  in  the  shining  hall, 

Many  my  coming  wait. 

'  Oh,  the  terrible  night, 

Falling  without  a  star  ! 
Darkness  anear,  but  light — 

Glorious  light  afar! 
Oh  the  perilous  way  ! 

Oh  the  pitiless  blast ! 
Long  though  I  suffer  and  stray, 

There  will  be  rest  at  last. 
Perhaps  I  have  far  to  go, 

Perhaps  but  a  little  way ! 
Well  that  I  do  not  know ! 

Onward  !    I  must  not  stay. 

'  Splinter  and  thorn  and  brier 
Yet  may  be  sore  and  keen  ; 
16 


Rocks  may  be  rougher  and  higher, 

Hollows  more  chill  between. 
There  may  be  torrents  to  cross, 

Bridgeless,  and  fierce  with  foam  ; 
Rest  in  the  wild  wood  were  loss, 

There  will  be  rest  at  home. 
Battling  with  dark  distress, 

Faltering,  but  yielding  never, 
Still  shall  my  faint  feet  press 

Onward  and  homeward  ever  I' 

Pulsing  under  the  pine-trees,  dying,  dy- 
ing,—and  gone, — 
Gone  tnat  ^Eolian  cadence,  silent  the 

firm  refrain  ; 
Only  the  howl   of  the  storm-wind  rages 

cruelly  on  : 

Has  the  traveller  fallen,  vanquished  by 
toil  and  pain  ? 

SCENE    III. 

Morning,  morning  on  the  mountains, 
golden-vestured,  snowy-browed  ! 

Morning  light  of  clear  resplendence,  shin- 
ing forth  without  a  cloud  ; 

Morning  songs  of  jubilation,  thrilling 
through  the  crystal  air  ; 

Morning  joy  upon  all  faces,  new  and  radi- 
ant, pure  and  fair. 

At  the  portals  of  the  mansion,  Ernest 
stands  and  gazes  back. 

There  is  light  upon  the  river,  light  upon 
the  forest  track  ; 

Light  upon  the  darkest  valley,  light  upon 
the  sternest  height  ; 

Light  upon  the  brake  and  bramble,  every- 
where that  glorious  light ! 

Strong  and  joyous  stands  the  traveller,  in 

the  morning  glory  now, 
Not  a  shade  upon  the  brightness  of  the 

cool  and  peaceful  brow ; 


242 


UNDER  THE   SURFACE. 


Not  a  trace  of  weary  faintness,  not  a  touch 
of  lingering  pain, 

Not  a  scar  to  wake  the  memory  of  the  suf- 
fering hours  again. 

Onward  by  the  winding  pathway,  many 

another  journeyed  fast, 
Hastening  to  the  princely  mansion  by  the 

way  that  he  had  passed  ; 
Spared  the  doubting  and  the  erring  by 

those  footsteps  bravely  placed 
In  the  clogging  mire,  or  trampling  on  the 

wounding  bramble-waste. 

Some  had  followed  close  behind  him, 
pressing  to  the  self-same  mark, 

Cheered  and  guided  by  the  refrain  of  that 
singer  in  the  dark  ; 

Some  were  near  him  in  the  tempest,  while 
he  thought  himself  alone, 

And  regained  a  long-lost  pathway,  follow- 
ing that  beckoning  tone. 

Some  who  patiently,  yet  feebly,  sought  to 
reach  that  mansion  too, 

Caught  the  unseen  singer's  courage,  bat- 
tled on  with  vigor  new  ; 

Some,  exhausted  in  the  struggle,  sunk  in 
slumber  chill  and  deep, 

Started  at  that  strange  voice  near  them, 
rousing  from  their  fatal  sleep. 

Now  they  meet  and  gather  round  him,  and 

together  enter  in, 
Where  the  rest  is  consummated  and  the 

joys  of  home  begin, 
Where  the  tempest   cannot   reach  them, 

where  the  wanderings  are  past, 
Where  the  sorrows  of  the  journey  not  a 

single  shadow  cast. 


bmging   once   in   dismal   forest,    singing 

once  in  cruel  storm, 
Singing  now  at  home  in  gladness  in  the 

sunshine  bright  and  warm, 
Once  again  the  voice  resoundeth,  pouring 

forth  a  happy  song, 
While  a  chorus    of  rejoicing   swells   the 

sweet  notes  full  and  long  : 

'  Light  after  darkness, 

Gain  after  loss, 
Strength  after  suffering, 

Crown  after  cross. 
Sweet  after  bitter, 

Song  after  sigh, 
Home  after  wandering, 

Praise  after  cry. 

'  Sheaves  after  sowing, 

Sun  after  rain, 
Sight  after  mystery, 

Peace  after  pain. 
Joy  after  sorrow, 

Calm  after  blast, 
Rest  after  weariness, 

Sweet  rest  at  last. 

'  Near  after  distant, 

Gleam  after  gloom, 
Love  after  loneliness, 

Life  after  tomb. 
After  long  agony, 

Rapture  of  bliss ! 
Right  was  the  pathway 

Leading  to  this  ! ' 


THE  COL  DE  BALM. 

SUNSHINE  and  silence  on  the  Col  de  Balm  ! 
I  stood  above  the  mists,  above  the  rush 
Of  all  the  torrents,  when  one  marvellous 
hush 


AFTER   LONG   AGONY, 
RAPTURE  OF   BLISS  ! 

RIGHT   WAS  THE   PATHWAY 
LEADING  TO   THIS  ! 


Page  242. 


'EYE   HATH   NOT   SEEN/ 


243 


Filled  God's  great  mountain  temple,  vast 

and  calm, 
With  hallelujah  light,  a  seen  though  silent 

psalm ; — 

Crossed  with  one  discord,  only  one.     For 

Love 
Cried  out,  and  would  be  heard  :   '  If  ye 

were  here, 

O  friends,  so  far  away  and  yet  so  near, 
Then  were  the  anthem  perfect !'    And  the 

cry 

Threaded  the  concords  of  that  Alpine  har- 
mony. 

Not  vain  the  same  fond  cry,  if  first  I  stand, 
Upon  the  mountain  of  our  God,  and  long, 
Even  in  the  glory,  and  with  His  new  song 
Upon  my  lips,  that  you  should  come  and 

share 
The  bliss  of  heaven,  imperfect  still  till  all 

are  there. 

Dear  ones  !  shall  it  be  mine  to  watch  you 

come 

Up  from  the  shadows  and  the  valley  mist, 
To  tread  the  jacinth  and  the  amethyst, 
To  rest    and   sing   upon    the    stormless 

height, 
In  the  deep  calm  of  love  and  everlasting 

light? 


< EYE  HATH  NOT  SEEN.' 

'  You  never  write  of  heaven, 

Though  you  write  of  heavenly  themes  ; 
You  never  paint  the  glory 

But  in  reflected  gleams  !' 
My  pencil  only  pictures 

What  I  have  known  and  seen : 
How  can  I  tell  the  joys  that  dwell 

Where  I  have  never  been  ? 


I  sing  the  songs  of  Zion, 

But  I  would  never  dare 
To  imitate  the  chorus, 

Like  many  waters,  there. 
I  sketch  the  sunny  landscape, 

But  can  I  paint  the  sun  ? 
Can  that  by  art,  which  human  heart 

Conceiveth  not,  be  won  ? 

The  Laplander,  that  never 

Hath  left  his  flowerless  snows, 
Might  make  another  realize 

The  fragrance  of  the  rose  : 
The  blind  might  teach  his  brother 

Each  subtle  tint  to  know, 
Of  lovely  lights  and  summer  sights, 

Of  shadow  and  of  glow. 

To  whom  all  sound  is  silence, 

The  dumb  man  might  impart 
The  spirit-winging  marvels 

Of  Handel's  sacred  art. 
But  never,  sister,  never 

Was  told  by  mortal  breath 
What  they  behold,  o'er  whom  hath  rolled 

The  one  dark  wave  of  death. 

Yet  angel-echoes  reach  us, 

Borne  on  from  star  to  star, 
And  glimpses  of  our  purchased  home, 

Not  always  faint  and  far. 
No  harp  seraphic  brings  them, 

No  poet's  glowing  word, 
By  One  alone  revealed  and  known — 

The  Spirit  of  the  Lord. 

Have  we  not  bent  in  sadness 

Before  the  mercy-seat, 
And  longed  with  speechless  longing 

To  kiss  the  Master's  feet  ? 
And  though  for  precious  ointment 

We  had  but  tears  to  bring, 


244 


UNDER   THE   SURFACE. 


We  let  them  flow,  and  could  not  go 
Till  we  had  seen  our  King. 


Then  came  a  flash  of  seeing 

How  ever}7  cloud  should  pass, 
And  vision  should  be  perfect, 

Undimmed  by  darkling  glass. 
The  glory  that  excelleth 

Shone  out  with  sudden  ray, 
We  seemed  to  stand  so  near  '  the  land ' 

No  longer  'far  away/ — 


The  glisten  of  the  vvhite  robe, 

The  waving  of  the  palm, 
The  ended  sin  and  sorrow, 

The  sweet  eternal  calm, 
The  holy  adoration 

That  perfect  love  shall  bring, 
And,  face  to  face,  in  glorious  grace, 

The  beauty  of  the  King  ! 

Oh,  this  is  more  than  poem, 

And  more  than  the  highest  song  ; 
A  witness  with  our  spirit, 

Though  hidden,  full  and  strong. 
'Tis  no  new  revelation 

Vouchsafed  to  saint  or  sage, 
But  light  from  God  cast  bright  and  broad 

Upon  the  sacred  page. 


Our  fairest  dream  can  never 

Outshine  that  holy  light, 
Our  noblest  thought  can  never  soar 

Beyond  that  word  of  might 
Our  whole  anticipation, 

Our  Master's  best  reward, 
Our  crown  of  bliss,  is  summed  in  this — 

*  Forever  with  the  Lord  !' 


ffitowrft  at 

"WHOM  HE  DID  PREDESTINATE,  THEM 

HE  ALSO  CALLED  ;  AND  WHOM  HE  CALLED, 
THEM  HE  ALSO  JUSTIFIED  ;  AND  WHOM  HE 
JUSTIFIED,  THEM  HE  ALSO  GLORIFIED." 

Rom.  viii.  30. 

I. 

CHOSEN  IN  CHRIST. 

'  He  hath  chosen  us  in  Him  before  the  founda- 
tion of  the  world. — EPH.  i.  4. 

O  THOU  chosen  Church  of  Jesus,  glorious, 
blessed,  and  secure, 

Founded  on  the  One  Foundation,  which 
forever  shall  endure ; 

Not  thy  holiness  or  beauty  can  thy  strength 
and  safety  be, 

But  the  everlasting  love  wherewith  Jeho- 
vah lov£d  thee. 

Chosen — by  His  own  good  pleasure,   by 

the  counsel  of  His  will, 
Mystery  of  power  and  wisdom  working  for 

His  people  still  ; 
Chosen — in  thy  mighty  Saviour,   ere  one 

ray  of  quickening  light 
Beamed  upon  the  chaos,   waiting  for  the 

Word  of  sovereign  might. 

Chosen — through  the  Holy  Spirit,  through 

the  sanctifying  grace 
Poured  upon  His  precious  vessels,   meet- 

ened  for  the  heavenly  place  ; 
Chosen — to  show  forth  His  praises,  to  be 

holy  in  His  sight ; 
Chosen— unto   grace   and   glory,  chosen 

unto  life  and  light. 

Blessed  be  the   God   and   Father   of  our 

Saviour  Jesus  Christ, 
Who  hath  blessed  us  with  such   blessings 

all  uncounted  and  unpriced ! 


SANCTIFIED. 


245 


Let  our  high  and  holy  calling,    and  our 

strong  salvation  be, 
Theme  of  never-ending   praises,  God   of 

sovereign  grace,  to  Thee  1 


II. 
CALLED. 

*  Partakers  of  the  heavenly  calling.' — HEB.  iii.  I. 

HOLY  brethren,  called  and  chosen  by  the 
sovereign  Voice  of  Might, 

See  your  high  and  holy  calling  out  of  dark- 
ness into  light ! 

Called  according  to  His  purpose  and  the 
riches  of  His  love  ; 

Won  to  listen  by  the  leading  of  the  gentle 
heavenly  Dove  ! 

Called  to  suffer  with  our  Master,  patiently 
to  run  His  race  ; 

Called  a  blessing  to  inherit,  called  to  holi- 
ness and  grace  ; 

Called  to  fellowship  with  Jesus,  by  the 
Ever-Faithful  One  ; 

Called  to  His  eternal  glory,  to  the  king- 
dom of  His  Son. 

Whom    He  calleth   He   preserveth,    and 

His  glory  they  shall  see  ; 
He  is  faithful  that  hath   called  you, — He 

will  do  it,  fear  not  ye  ! 
Therefore,  holy  brethren,  onward  !  thus  ye 

make  your  calling  sure  ; 
For  the  prize  of  this  high  calling,  bravely 

to  the  end  endure. 


III. 
JUSTIFIED. 

1  This  is  the  name  wherewith  she  shall  be  called, 
The  Lord  our  Righteousness.— JER.  xxxiii.  16. 

ISRAEL  of  God,  awaken  !  Church  of  Christ, 
arise  and  shine, 

Mourning  garb  and  soiled  raiment  hence- 
forth be  no  longer  thine  ! 


For  the  Lord  thy  God  hath  clothed  thee 
with  a  new  and  glorious  dress,  _ 

With  the  garments  of  salvation,  with  the 
robe  of  righteousness. 

By  the  grace  of  God  the  Father,  thou  art 
freely  justified, 

Through  the  great  redemption  purchased 
by  the  blood  of  Him  who  died  ; 

By  His  life,  for  thee  fulfilling  God's  com- 
mand exceeding  broad, 

By  His  glorious  resurrection,  seal  and  sig- 
net of  thy  God. 

Therefore,  justified  for  ever,  by  the  faith 

which  He  hath  given, 
Peace   and  joy,     and   hope   abounding, 

smooth  thy  trial  path  to  heaven  ; 
Unto  Him  betrothed  for  ever,    who  thy 

life  shall  crown  and  bless, 
By  His  name  thou  shalt  be  called,  Christ 

'  The  Lord  our  Righteousness  ! ' 


IV. 
SANCTIFIED. 

1  Sanctified  in  Christ  Jesus.'— i  COR.  i.  2. 

CHURCH   of  God,    beloved   and   chosen, 

Church  of  Christ,  for  whom  He  died, 
Claim  thy  gifts  and  praise  thy  Giver  ! — 

'  Ye  are  washed  and  sanctified* 
Sanctified   by   God    the   Father,  and  by 

Jesus  Christ  His  Son, 
And  by  God  the  Holy  Spirit,  Holy,  Holy, 

Three  in  One. 

By  His  will  He  sanctifieth,  by  the  Spirit's 

power  within ; 
By  the  loving  Hand  that  chasteneth  fruits 

of  righteousness  to  win  ; 


246 


UNDER   THE   SURFACE. 


By  His  truth  and  by  His  promise,  by  the 

Word,  His  gift  unpriced, 
By  His  own  blood,  and  by  union  with  the 

risen  life  of  Christ. 

Holiness  by  faith  in  Jesus,  not  by  effort 

of  thine  own, — 
Sin's   dominion   crushed  and  broken  by 

the  power  of  grace  alone,  — 
God's  own  holiness  within  thee,  His  own 

beauty  on  thy  brow, — 
This  shall  be  thy  pilgrim  brightness,  this 

thy  blessed  portion  now. 

He  will  sanctify  thee  wholly  ;  body,  spirit, 

soul  shall  be 
Blameless  till  thy  Saviour's  coming  in  His 

glorious  majesty ! 
He  hath  perfected  for  ever  those  whom  He 

hath  sanctified  ; 
Spotless,  glorious,  and  holy  is  the  Church, 

His  chosen  Bride. 


V. 
JOINED  TO  CHRIST. 

'  Head  over  all  things  to  the  Church,  which  is 
His  body.' — EPH.  i.  22,  23. 

JOINED  to  Christ  in  mystic  union, 
We  Thy  members,  Thou  our  Head, 

Sealed  by  deep  and  true  communion, 
Risen  with  Thee,  who  once  was  dead — 

Saviour,  we  would  humbly  claim 

All  the  power  of  this  Thy  name. 

Instant  sympathy  to  brighten 
All  their  weakness  and  their  woe, 

Guiding  grace  their  way  to  lighten, 
Shall  Thy  loving  members  know  : 

All  their  sorrows  Thou  dost  bear, 

All  Thy  gladness  they  shall  share. 


Make  Thy  members  every  hour 
For  Thy  blessed  service  meet  ; 

Earnest  tongues,  and  arms  of  power, 
Skilful  hands,  and  hastening  feet, 

Ever  ready  to  fulfil 

All  Thy  word  and  all  Thy  will. 

Everlasting  life  Thou  givest, 

Everlasting  love  to  see  ; 
They  shall  live  because  Thou  livest, 

And  their  life  is  hid  with  Thee. 
Safe  Thy  members  shall  be  found, 
When  their  glorious  Head  is  crowned  ! 


VI. 
PRESENTED  FAULTLESS. 

'Behold  I  and  the  children  which   God  hath 
given  Me.' — HEB.  ii.  13. 

OUR  Saviour  and  our  King, 
Enthroned  and  crowned  above, 
Shall  with  exceeding  gladness  bring 
The  children  of  His  love. 

All  that  the  Father  gave 

His  glory  shall  behold  ; 

Not  one  whom  Jesus  came  to  save 

Is  missing  from  His  fold. 

He  shall  confess  His  own 
From  every  clime  and  coast, 
Before  His  Father's  glorious  throne, 
Before  the  angel  host. 

'  O  righteous  Father,  see, 
In  spotless  robes  arrayed, 
Thy  chosen  gifts  of  love  to  Me, 
Before  the  worlds  were  made. 

'  By  new  creation  Thine  ; 

By  purpose  and  by  grace, 

By  right  of  full  redemption,  Mine, 

Faultless  before  Thy  face. 


THE  MESSAGE  OF  AN  ^OLIAN   HARP. 


247 


« As  Thou  hast  lovdd  Me, 
So  hast  Thou  loved  them; 
Thy  precious  jewels  they  shall  be, 
My  glorious  diadem  1* 


VII. 

GLORIFIED. 

1  The  God  of  all  grace,  who  hath  called  you  un- 
to His  eternal  glory  by  Christ  Jesus,    ...    to 
Him  be  glory.' — I  PET.  v.  10,  II. 

SOVEREIGN  Lord  and  gracious  Master, 

Thou  didst  freely  choose  Thine  own, 
Thou  hast  called  with  mighty  calling, 
Thou  wilt  save,  and  keep  from  falling  ; 
Thine  the  glory,  Thine  alone  ! 

Yet  Thy  hand  shall  crown  in  heaven 
All  the  grace  Thy  love  hath  given ; 
Just,  though  undeserved,  reward 
From  our  glorious,  gracious  Lord. 

From  the  martyr  and  apostle 

To  the  sainted  baby  boy, 
Every  consecrated  chalice 
In  the  King  of  Glory's  palace 
Overflows  with  holy  joy. 

Sovereign  choice  of  gift  and  dower, 
Differing   honor,  differing  power, — 
Yet  are  all  alike  in  this, 
Perfect  love  and  perfect  bliss. 

In  those  heavenly  constellations, 

Lo  !    what  differing  glories  meet ; 
Stars  of  radiance  soft  and  tender, 
Stars  of  full  and  dazzling  splendor, 
All  in  God's  own  light  complete  ; 
Brightest  they  whose  holy  feet, 
Faithful  to  His  service  sweet, 
Nearest  to  their  Master  trod, 
Winning  wandering  souls  to  God. 


Oh  the  rapture  of  that  vision  ! 

(Every  earthly  passion  o'er),  ~~ 
Our  Redeemer's  coronation, 
And  the  blissful  exaltation 
Of  the  dear  ones  gone  before. 

Grace  that  shone  for  Christ  below 
Changed  to  glory  we  shall  know ; 
And  before  His  unveiled  face 
Sing  the  glory  of  His  grace. 


THE  MESSAGE  OF  AN  JEOLIAN 
HARP. 

'  GOOD-BYE,  my  mother  !' 

The  brown-haired  boy,  with  merry  rever- 
ence, 

Turned  from  the  window  where  she  leant, 
to  meet 

His  holiday  companions,  blithely  bound, 

With   bat   and   ball  for  healthy  English 
sport. 

She  watched  his  lithesome  form,  so  slight 
yet  strong, 

Till,  passing  from  the  gate,  he  waved  his 
cap 

And  vanished.     Then  she  sighed. 

Beside  her  sat 

A  friend   of  years.     A   different  portrait 
each 

Who  knew  her  would  have  drawn,  for  dif- 
ferent traits 

Shone  out  in  turns  as  sympathetic  gleams 

Fell  on  them  or  flashed  out.     And  few 
could  tell 

The  color  of  her  eyes,  or  grey  or  brown, 

Because  the  hue  was  lost  in  light  or  shade  ; 

Nor  if  her  mouth  were  large  or  small,  be- 
cause 


248 


UNDER   THE   SURFACE. 


The  play    of  thought  made  visible   was 

there, 
Like   shifting   rainbows   on   white  foam. 

Her  hair 
Was  dark,  and  she  was  rather  tall  :  and 

this 

Was  all  in  which  most  people  would  agree. 
Not  always  sigh  for  sigh  or  smile  for 

smile 
She  gave ;  for  now  and  then  fine  tact  of 

heart 

Suggests  an  opposite  as  best  response, 
Completing  by  contrasting,  like  a  scarlet 

flower 

With  soft  green  leaves.     So  with  her  rip- 
pling voice, 
Like  waters  that  now  murmur  low,  now 

leap 

In  spray-like  laughter,  Beatrice  replied 
To  Eleanor's  slow  sigh  : 

'  When  he  comes  home, 
How  full  of  cricket  stories  he  will  be  ! 
'Tis  most  amusing  when  he  gives  accounts, 
Sparkling  with  boyish  wit,  yet  earnestly, 
As  if  an  empire  hung  upon  the  match  : 
Only  one  needs  a  glossary  of  terms  ! 
How  well  he  knows  the  interest  with  which 
You  hear  !     I  mark,  he  intersperses  all 
With  rough  pet  names,  shy  veils  of  ten- 
derness 

For  his  dear  mother.  Eleanor,  I  think 
Your  Hubert  has  not  merely  head  and 

hand, 
As  all  his  comrades  know,  but  true  heart 

too, 

As  you  alone  know  fully.  Well  for  him 
That  he  has  such  a  heart  to  meet  his  own, 
And  well  for  you  ;  for  'tis  a  blessed  gift, 
Not  shared  by  all  alike — the  power  to  love; 
And  not  less  blessed  for  proportioned  pain, 
Its  fiery  seal,  its  royal  crown  of  thorns. ' 


'  So  seems  it,  Beatrice,  to  you,  who  find 
No  lurking  danger  in  its  concentration, 
Because  you  have  so  many  near  and  dear. 
Not  so  to  me.     I  tremble  when  I  think 
How  much  I  love  him  ;  but  I  turn  away 
From   thinking   of  it,   just  to  love  him 

more ; — 
Indeed,  I  fear,  too  much. 

'  Dear  Eleanor, 
Do  you  love  him  as  much  as  Christ  loves 

us? 
Let  your  lips  answer  me. ' 

*  Why  ask  me,  dear? 
Our  hearts  are  finite,  Christ  is  infinite. ' 
'  Then,  till  you  reach  the  standard  of 

that  love, 
Let  neither  fears  nor  well-meant  warning 

voice 
Distress  you  with  "too  much."     For  HE 

hath  said — 
How  much — and  who  shall  dare  to  change 

His  measure  ? — 

' '  That  ye  should  love  AS  /  have  loved  you. " 
Oh,  sweet  command,  that  goes  so  far  be- 
yond 
The   mightiest   impulse  of  the   tenderest 

heart ! 
A  bare  permission  had  been  much ;  but 

He, 

Who  knows  our  yearnings  and  our  fear- 
fulness, 

Chose  graciously  to  bid  us  do  the  thing 
That  makes  our  earthly   happiness,  and 

set 

A  limit  that  we  need  not  fear  to  pass, 
Because  we  cannot.     Oh  the  breadth,  and 

length, 
And  depth,  and  height  of  love  that  pass- 

eth  knowledge  ! 
Yet  Jesus  said,  < <  AS  I  have  lovfcd  you."  ' 
'  O  Beatrice,  I  long  to  feel  the  sunshine 


THE   MESSAGE   OF   AN   AEOLIAN   HARP. 


249 


That  this  should  bring;    but   there   are 

other  words 
Which  fall  in  chill  eclipse.     'Tis  written, 

"Keep 
Yourselves   from   idols."     How  shall    I 

obey  ? ' 
'  Dear,  not  by  loving  less,  but  loving 

more. 

It  is  not  that  we  love  our  precious  ones 
Too  much,  but  God  too  little.     As  the 

lamp 

A  miner  bears  upon  his  shadowed  brow, 
Is  only  dazzling  in  the  grimy  dark 
And   has  no  glare  against   the   summer 

sky 

So,  set  the  tiny  torch  of  our  best  love 
In  the  great  sunshine  of  the  Love  of  God, 
And,  though  full  fed  and  fanned,  it  casts 

no  shade 
And  dazzles  not,  o'erflowed  with  mightier 

light' 
She   watched  in  hope  to  see  the  pale 

lips  curve 

More  peacefully  in  answer  to  her  words. 
But  Eleanors  'quick  spirit  bridged  too 

soon 
The  gap  between  one  ridge  of  anxious 

thought 

And  that  beyond,  to  see  the  glen  between, 
Where  pastures  green  and  waters  still 

were  spread. 
So,    answering  not  her  friend's   thought, 

but  her  own, 
She  said,  '  Tis  but  half  true  that  love  is 

power, 
'Tis  sometimes  weakness/ 

*  Nay  !     You  have  not  found 
It  thus  at  all.     See  how  the  bold  bright 

boy, 
Wilful   and    wayward    else,    will   follow 

prompt 


The  magnet  of  your  wish,   with  sudden 

swerve 
From  his  own  bent  or  fancy. 

'  That  is  true, 
And  oh,    so  sweet  to  me  !     But  by  the 

power 
I   gauge  the   weakness.     Beatrice,   your 

heart 
Has  ached  with  longing  for  some  stranger 

soul 

That  it  might  flee  from  danger  to  the  One, 
The  Only  Refuge ;  you  have  felt  keen 

pain 
In  calling  those  who  will  not  come  to 

Him 
Who  waits  to  give  them  life  ;  but  I,  / 

strive 
For  one  far  more  than  all  the  world  to 

me, — 

My  boy,  my  only  one,  and  fatherless, 
Just  entering  the  labyrinth  of  life 
Without  its  only  clue,  with  nothing  but 
My  feeble  hand  to  shield  from  powers  of  ill. 
1  His  mind  is  opening  fast,  and  I  have 

tried 

To  show  the  excellency  of  the  knowledge 
Of  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord  ;  he  listens  well, 
To  please  his  mother,  whom  he  would 

not  grieve  ; 

But  never  pulse  of  interest  I  feel, 
And  echoless  the  name  of  Jesus  falls, 
While  classic  heroes  stir  him  with  delight 
My  boy,   my  only  one  !     I  taught  him 

words, 

When  years  ago  his  tiny  feet  peeped  out 
From  the  white  nightgown  in  the  nur- 
sery hush  ; 
And  folding  firm  the  busy  little  hands, 
He   lisped    "Our   Father."     But  words 

are  not  prayer. 
[  put  the  lamp  of  life  in  his  small  hand, 


250 


UNDER   THE   SURFACE. 


Filling  his  memory  with  shining  truths 
And  starry  promises.       He  learnt  them 

all 
For  love  of  me,  just  as  he  would  have 

learnt 

Some  uncouth  string  of  barbarous  names, 
Had  I  so  wished  :  no  more.  They  are  no 

light 

To  him,  no  strength,  no  joy.  O  Beatrice, 
'Tis  this  that  presses  on  my  weary  heart, 
And  makes  it  more  than  widowed.  For 

I  know 

That  he  who  is  not  lost,  but  gone  before, 
Is  only  waiting  till  I  come  ;  for  death 
Has  only  parted  us  a  little  while, 
And  has  not  severed  e'en  the  finest  strand 
In  the  eternal  cable  of  our  love  : 
The  very  strain   has  twined  it  closer  still, 
And  added  strength.      The  music  of  his 

life 
Is  nowise  stilled,   but   blended  so  with 

songs 
Around  the  throne  of  God,  that  our  poor 

ears 

No  longer  hear  it.     Hubert's  life  is  mute 

As  yet  ;  and  what  if  all  my  tuning  fail  !  ' 

And   Eleanor  looked   up   among   the 

clouds 

With  weary,  wistful  eyes,  while  Beatrice 
Sent  a  far-passing  glance  beyond  them 

all, 
Beyond  the  sunshine  too. 

A  sudden  smile 
Rose   from  within    and    overflowed  her 

lips 

And  made  them  beautiful.  Poor  Eleanor 
Deemed  it  the  herald  of  some  happy 

thought, 
Some  message,  it  might  be,  from  God  to 

her, 
Wrapped  in  the  simple  words  of  friend  to 

friend. 


We  do  not  always  know  it  when  we  have 
The  privilege  to  be  God's  messengers, 
Nor  who  shall  be  His  messengers  to  us. 
Unconsciously  a  pale  responsive  smile 
Gleamed  out  to  welcome  it,  and  hardly 

waned 
As  unexpected  change  of  subject  came. 

'  I  did  not  tell  you,  did  I,   of  my  gift, 
My  beautiful  ^Eolian  harp  ? ' 

'  Oh  no  ! 

I  was  too  full  of  mine,  my  boy,    and  you 
Too  full  of  ready  sympathy  with  me. ' 
'Nay,  do  not  say  "  too  full,"  that  could 

not  be, 

Yours  is  so  great  a  gift,  so  great  a  care ! 
I  shall  not  tire  of  thinking  with  you  thus, 
Until  I  do  not  love  you,  which  means 

never. 

But  as  we  turn  from  gazing  on  the  sea 
To  lift  admiringly  a  tiny  shell, 
So  you  shall  turn  from  your  great  interest 
To  hear  of  my  ^Eolian  treasure  now. 
Say,  have  you  ever  seen  one  ? ' 

Never,  dear  ; 

But  visible,  and  almost  audible, 
Your  words  shall  make  it. ' 

'  There's  not  much  to  see  : 
Two  plain  smooth  boards,  one  thick,  one 

very  thin, 
With   seven  tensioned    strings  upon  the 

under, 

Just  covered  by  the  upper,  and  a  space 
That  you  might  lay  a  finger   in   between. 
Yet  one  can  almost  reverence  the  thing 
For  very  marvel  at  its  spirit  tones 
And  mysteries  of  music,  that  we  love 
But  cannot  understand. ' 

'  But  tell  me  more, 

Dear  Beatrice  :  what  is  its  music  like  ? 
Whence  comes  it  ?  and  what  does  it  say  to 

you  ?' 


THE   MESSAGE   OF   AN   AEOLIAN   HARP. 


251 


'  'Tis  easier  to  answer  what  and  whence 
Than  your  third  question,  for  not  twice 
I  hear   the   same   soul-message   from  its 

strings. 

But  I  will  tell  you  of  the  first  it  brought ; 
Your  heart  will  follow  mine,  and  trace  the 

under-thought. 


*  A  friend,  a  kind,  dear  friend 
Gave  me  this  harp,  that  should  be  all  my 

own, 

That  it  might  speak  to  me  in  twilight  lone 
When   other   sounds  were   fled  ;  that  it 

might  send 
Sweet    messages    of    calming,    cheering 

might, 

Sweet  sudden  thrills   of  strange   and   ex- 
quisite delight. 

ii. 

1  Upon  the  strings  I  laid  my  hand, 
And  all  were  tuned  in  unison ;  one  tone 
Was  yielded  by  the  seven,  one  alone, 
In  quick   obedience   to   my   touch-com- 
mand. 

It  could  not  be  that  this  was  all  he  meant 
Of  promised  music,  when  my  little  harp 
was  sent. 


in. 


'  To  win  the  tones  I  found  the  way 
In  his  own  letter,  mine  before  the  gift : 
"  You  cannot  wake  its  music  till  you  lift 
The  closed  sash.     Take  up  and  gently  lay 
Your  harp  where  it  may  meet  the  freshen- 
ing air, 

Then  wait  and  listen."     This  I  did  and 
left  it  there. 


IV. 

'  I  waited  till  the  sun  had  set," 
And  twilight  fell  upon  the  autumn  sea  ; 
I  watched,  and  saw  the  north  wind  touch 

a  tree, 

Dark  outlined  on  the  paling  gold,  and  yet 
My  harp  was  mute.       I   cried,  "Awake, 

O  north ! 
Come  to  my  harp,  and  call  its  answering 

music  forth." 

v. 

*  Like  stars  that  tremble  into  light 
Out  of  the  purple  dark,  a  low,  sweet  note 
Just  trembled  out  of  silence,  antidote 
To  any  doubt ;  for  never  finger  might 
Produce  that  note,  so  different,  so  new  : 
Melodious  pledge  that  all  he   promised 
should  come  true. 

VI. 

'  It  seemed  to  die  ;  but  who  could  say 
Whether  or  when  it  passed  the  border-line 
'  Twixt  sound  and  silence  ?  for  no  ear  so 

fine 

That  it  can  trace  the  subtle  shades  away  ; 
Like   prism-rays    prolonged  beyond  our 

ken, 
Like  memories  that  fade,  we  know  not 

how  or  when. 

VII. 

'  Then  strange  vibrations  rose  and  fell, 

Like  far  sea-murmurs  blending  in  a  dream 

With  madrigals,  whose  fairy  singers  seem 

Now  near,  now  distant ;  and  a  curfew 

bell, 

Whose  proper  tone  in  one  air-filling  crowd 
Of  strong  harmonics  hides,  as  in  a  dazzling 
cloud. 


252 


UNDER   THE   SURFACE. 


VIII. 

*  Then  delicately  twining  falls 
Of  silvery  chords,  that  quiver  with  sweet 

pain, 
And  melt  in  tremulous   minors,   mount 

again, 
Brightening  to  fullest   concords,  calm 

recalls, 
And    measured   pulsings,   soft  and  sweet 

and  slow, 

Which  emphasizing  touch  love's  quiet  un- 
der-glow. 

rx. 

'  A  silence.     Then  a  solemn  wail, 
Swelling  far  up  among  the  harmonies, 
And  shattering  the  crystal  melodies 

To  fleeting  fragments  glisteringly  pale, 
Yet  only  to  combine  them  all  anew 
By   resolutions  strange,  yet  always  sweet 
and  true. 

x. 

'  Anon  a  thrill  of  all  the  strings  ; 
And  then  a  flash  of  music,  swift  and  bright, 
Like  a  first  throb  of  weird  Auroral  light ; 
Then    crimson   coruscations  from   the 

wings 

Of  the  Pole-Spirit ;  then  ecstatic  beat, 
As  if  an  angel-host  went  forth  on  shining 
feet. 

XI. 

'  Soon    passed    the    sounding    starlit 

march, 
And  then  one  swelling  note  grew  full  and 

long, 

While,  like  a  far-off  old  cathedral  song, 
Through  dreamy  length  of  echoing  aisle 

and  arch, 

Float  softest  harmonies  around,  above, 
Like  flowing  chordal  robes  of  blessing  and 

of  love. 


XII. 

*  Thus,  while  the  holy  stars  did  shine 

And  listen,  these  yEolian  marvels  breathed; 

While  love  and  peace  and  gratitude  en- 
wreathed 

With  rich  delight  in  one  fair  crown  were 
mine. 

The   wind   that  bloweth  where  it  listeth 
brought 

This  glory  of  harp-music, — not  my  skill 
or  thought' 

She  ceased.     Then  Eleanor  looked  up, 
And  said,  '  O  Beatrice,  I  too  have  tried 
My  finger-skill  in  vain.     But  opening  now 
My  window,  like  wise  Daniel,  I  will  set 
My  little  harp  therein,  and  listening  wait 
The  breath  of  heaven,  the  Spirit  of  our 
God/ 


BABY'S  TURN. 

TINY  feet  so  busy  in  a  tiny  patter  out  of 

sight, 
Little  hands  escaping  from  protecting  doily 

white, 
One  in  lifted  eagerness,    and    one    that 

grasps  the  baby  chair, — 
All  impatient !     Baby  darling,   must  not 

sister  have  a  share  ? 

Only  just   a   moment,   dearie  ;    coming, 

coming  !  don't  be  vexed  ! 
Only  just  a  moment,  darling ;  then  we'll 

see  whose  turn  is  next ! 
Ah,  she  knows  as  well  as  we  do  !     Baby's 

turn  is  come  at  last ; 
Now  the  little  mouth  may  open  ;  gently, 

gently,  not  too  fast. 


THE   FIRST   SMILE. 


253 


Baby's   turn  !     To-day   'tis  only   for   the 

fruit  so  nice  and  sweet, 
But  a  far-away  to-morrow  hastens  on  with 

silent  feet ; 
When  the  yesterdays  of  life  are  clearest  in 

our  dimming  gaze, 
Baby's  vision  will  be  filled  with  brightly 

realized  to-days. 

Baby's  turn  for  fair  unfolding  in  the  sunny 
girlhood  time, 

For  the  blossom  and  the  breezes,  for  the 
carol  and  the  chime ; 

Baby's  turn  to  wear  the  crown  of  woman- 
hood upon  her  brow, 

Heavier  but  nobler  than  the  fairy  gold 
which  glitters  now. 

Baby's  turn  to  care  for  others,  and  to  kiss 
away  the  tear, 

For  the  joy  of  ministration  to  the  suffering 
or  the  dear, 

For  the  happiness  of  giving  help  and  com- 
fort, love  and  life, 

Whether  walking  all  alone,  or  as  a  blessed 
and  blessing  wife. 

Baby's   turn   for  this  and  more,  if  God 

should  give  her  length  of  days  ; — 
For  the  calmness  of  experience  and  the 

retrospect  of  praise, 
For  the  silver  trace  of  sorrows  glistening 

in  the  sunset  ray, 
For   the   evening  stillness  falling  on  the 

turmoil  of  the  day. 

What  though  Baby's  turn  may  come  for 

bitter  griefs  and  wearing  fears  ! 
Love  shall  lighten  every  trial, — love  that 

prays  and  love  that  hears. 
See !  she  watches  and  she  wonders  till  the 

reverie  is  o'er  ;  . 
Did  she  think  she  was  forgotten?     Now 

'tis  Baby's  turn  once  more  1 


THE  CHILDREN'S  TRIUMPH. 

THE  Sunbeams  came  to  my  window, 

And  said,  '  Come  out  and  see 
The  sparkle  on  the  river, 

The  blossom  on  the  tree  !' 
But  never  a  moment  parleyed  I 

With  the  bright-haired  Sunbeams'  call ! 
Though  their  dazzling  hands  on  the  leaf 

they  laid, 
I  drew  it  away  to  the  curtain-shade, 

Where  a  sunbeam  could  not  fall. 

The  Robins  came  to  my  window, 

And  said,  '  Come  out  and  sing  ! 
Come  out  and  join  the  chorus 

Of  the  festival  of  the  Spring  !' 
But  never  a  carol  would  1  trill 

In  the  festival  of  May  ; 
But  I  sat  alone  in  my  shadowy  room, 
And  worked  away  in  its  quiet  gloom, 

And  the  Robins  flew  away. 

The  Children  came  to  my  window, 

And  said,  '  Come  out  and  play  ! 
Come  out  with  us  in  the  sunshine, 

'Tis  such  a  glorious  day  !' 
Then  never  another  word  I  wrote, 

And  my  desk  was  put  away  ! 
When  the  Children  called  me,  what  could 

I  do? 

The  Robins  might  fail,  and  the  Sunbeams 
too, 

But  the  Children  won  the  day. 


THE  FIRST  SMILE. 

A  SMILE,  a  smile,  my  darling  ! 

After  the  weeks  of  pain  ; 
The  restless  eye,  the  shaded  brow 
Lit  with  a  welcome  brightness  now — 

The  first  sweet  smile  again  ! 


254 


UNDER  THE   SURFACE. 


A  smile,  a  smile,  my  darling ! 

Not  many  days  ago 

We  hailed  the  first  fair  snowdrop,  white, 
Pale  and  sweet  in  the  early  light, 

After  the  frost  and  snow. 

More  welcome  than  the  snowdrop, 

More  gladdening  than  the  sun, 
The  pale  sweet  smile  that  dawned  at  last, 
Although  so  faint,  and  fleeting  fast, 
Although  the  only  one. 

We  hail  it  as  the  herald 

Of  sunny  summer  days, 
Of  blessings  for  our  darling  boy, 
Of  peaceful  love,  and  thankful  joy, 

And  fuller  note  of  praise. 


THE  SUNDAY  BOOK. 

READ  to  him,  Connie,  read  as  you  sit, 
Cosy  and  warm  in  the  great  arm-chair, 
Let  your  hand  press  lovingly,  lightly  there, 
Let  the  gentle  touch  of  your  sunny  hair 
Over  his  cheek  like  a  soft  breeze  flit. 

Read  to  him,  Connie  !  The  house  is  still, 
The  week-day  lessons,  the  week-day  play, 
And  the  week-day  worries  are  hushed 

away 

In  the  golden  calm  of  the  Holy  Day  ; 
He  will  listen  now  if  ever  he  will. 

Read  to  him,  Connie,  read  while  you  may  ! 
For  the  years  will  pass,  and  he  must  go 
Out  in  the  cold  world's  treacherous  flow, 
Danger  and  trial  and  evil  to  know, — 
He  may  drift  in  the  dark,  far,  far  away  ! 

Now  he  is  happy  and  safe  in  the  nest, 
Teach  him  to  warble  the  songs  of  home, 
Teach  him  to  soar  but  never  to  roam, 
Only  to  soar  to  a  starry  dome, 


Linking  with  heaven  the  hearts  he  loves 
best. 

Read  to  him,  Connie  !     Read  what  you 

love, 

Holy  and  sweet  be  your  Sabbath  choice; 
And  the  music  that  dwells  in  a  sister's 

voice 
Shall  lure  him  to  listen   while  angels 

rejoice, 

As  the  soft  tones  blend  with   the   harps 
above. 

Read  to  him,  Connie  !    Read  of  the  ONE 
Who  loves  him  most,  yes,  more  than 

you  ! 

Read  of  that  love,  so  great,  so  true, 
Love  everlasting,  yet  ever  new  ; 
For  who  can  tell  but  his  heart  may  be 
won  ! 

Read  to  him,  Connie  !     For  it  may  be 
That  your  Sunday  book,  like  a  silver 

bar 

Of  steady  light  from  a  guiding  star, 
May  gleam  in  memory,  clear  and  far, 

Across  the  waves  of  a  wintry  sea. 


AMY. 
I  have  loved  you,  saith  the  Lord.' — MAL.  i.  2. 

A  MY,  this  thy  promise  be, 
M  arvellous  and  sweet  and  free, 
'Y  ea,  the  Lord  hath  loved  thee.' 
H  e  hath  loved  thee,  and  He  knows 
A  11  thy  fears  and  all  thy  foes ; 
V  ictor  thou  shalt  surely  be 
E  ver  through  His  love  to  thee. 
R  est  in  quiet  joy  on  this,  — 
G  reater  love  hath  none  than  His  : 
A  nd  may  this  thy  life-song  be, 
L  ove  to  Him  that  loveth  thee  ! 


AT  HOME  TO-NIGHT. 


255 


'IT  IS  WELL   WITH  THE 

CHILD.'1 
ONLY  one  dark  December  time, 

With  chill  and  gloomy  hours ; 
And  now — the  '  everlasting  spring/ 

The  '  never-withering  flowers.' 

Only  one  week  of  weary  pains, 

With  suffering  oppressed  ; 
And  now — the  Sabbath  that  remains, 

God's  everlasting  rest. 

Only  one  word  of  earthly  speech, 
The  sweetest  and  the  first  ; 

And  now — the  songs  that  angels  sing 
From  baby  lips  have  burst 

Only  one  journey,  fondly  borne 
In  arms  of  tenderest  love  ; 

And  now — no  wanderings  more  for  him, 
Safe  in  the  home  above. 

Yes,  safe,  for  ever,  safe  and  blest, 

Where  they  '  go  no  more  out ;  ' 
With  Jesus,  whom  he  never  grieved 
By  any  sin  or  doubt 

Not  preluded  by  tearful  prayer, 
His  happy  praise  shall  swell, 

And  joy  of  '  welcome '  shall  be  his 
Who  never  knew  '  farewell/ 


AT  HOME  TO-NIGHT. 
i. 

THE  lessons  are  done  and  the  prizes  won, 
And  the  counted  weeks  are  passed  ; 

O  the  holiday  joys  of  the  girls  and  boys 
Who  are  *  home  to-night/  at  last! 

1  In  memory  of  J.  S.,  who  fell  asleep  Decem- 
ber 6,  1870,  aged  seven  months.  The  day  before 
death  he  fixed  his  eyes  on  his  mother  with  a  long 
gaze  of  wonderful  intelligence  and  love,  and 
after  repeated  effort,  uttered  distinctly  the  *  one 
word  ' — « Mamma ! ' 


O  the  ringing  beat  of  the  springing  feet, 

As  into  the  hall  they  rush  ! 
O  the  tender  bliss  of  the  first  home  kiss, 

With  its  moment  of  fervent  hush  ! 
So  much  to  tell  and  to  hear  as  well, 

As  they  gather  around  the  glow  ! 
Who  would  not  part,  for  the  joy  of  heart 

That  only  the  parted  can  know — 
At  home  to-night ! 

ii. 

But  all  have  not  met,  there  are  travellers 

yet 

Speeding  along  through  the  dark, 
By  tunnel  and  bridge,  past    river   and 

ridge, 

To  the  distant,  yet  nearing  mark. 
But  hearts  are  warm,  for  the  winter  storm 

Has  never  a  chill  for  love : 
And  faces  are  bright  in    the    flickering 

light 

Of  the  small  dim  lamp  above. 
And  voices  of  gladness  rise  over  the  mad- 
ness 

Of  the  whirl  and  the  rush  and  the  roar, 
For  rapid  and  strong  it  bears  them  along 
To  a  home  and  an  open  door — 
Yes,  home  to-night ! 

in. 

Oh,  home  to-night,  yes,  home  to-night, 

Through  the  pearly  gate  and  the  open 

door  ! 
Some  happy  feet  on  the  golden  street 

Are  entering  now  to  '  go  out  no  more. ' 
For  the  work  is  done  and  the  rest  begun, 

And  the  training  time  is  for  ever  past, 
And  the  home  of  rest  in  the  mansions 
blest 

Is  safely,  joyously  reached  at  last. 


256 


UNDER   THE   SURFACE. 


O  the  love  and  light  in  that  home  to-night ! 
O  the  songs  of  bliss  and  the  harps  of 

gold! 
O  the    gloiy  shed  on  the  new-crowned 

head! 
O  the  telling  of  love  that  can  ne'er  be 

told—  . 
O  the  welcome  that  waits  at  the  shining 

gates, 
For  those  who  are  following  far,   yet 

near ; 

When  all  shall  meet  at  His  glorious  feet 
In  the  light  and  the  love  of  His  home 
so  dear ! 

Yes,  '  home  to-night ! ' 

NOTE — These  verses, written  a  few  days  before 
Christmas,  were  suggested  by  the  remark  of  a 
young  friend,  after  picturing  the  merry  '  break- 
ing up,'  of  her  old  schoolfellows, — '  They  will 
all  be  at  home  to-night.'  The  thought  arose — 
*  Perhaps  some  of  Christ's  little  ones,  who  have 
been  learning  in  His  school,  may  be  reaching 
His  home  to-night !  '  And  while  the  third 
stanza  was  being  written,  a  telegram  came  bear- 
ing the  sad  and  unexpected  tidings  that  a  dear 
little  girl  of  twelve  years  old  had  indeed  just 
reached  horns,  after  a  short  illness,  and  entered 
the  presence  of  the  Saviour  whom  she  had  early 
learnt  to  love.  The  coincidence  of  the  thought 
with  the  very  hour  of  her  departure,  being  un- 
connected with  any  idea  of  her  illness,  was  re- 
markable. 


TWO  KINGS. 

SHE  stood  by  the  western  window, 
In  the  midsummer  twilight  fair ; 

And   the  sunset  breeze  leaped  from   the 

trees 
To  lift  her  heavy  hair. 

Loving  and  lingering  that  good-night, 
Which  again  and  again  was  said, 


As  ever  a  fresh  excuse  was  found 
To  '  put  off  going  to  bed. ' 

She  took  a  ring  from  the  table, 

Blue,  with  a  diamond  eye  ; 
A  forget-me-not  that  would  never  fade 

'Neath  any  wintry  sky. 

She  placed  it  on  her  little  hand, 
And  danced  with  sudden  glee  ; 

'  Look  at  my  ring,  my  pretty  ring  ! 
It  is  mine  just  now,  you  see  !' 

She  laughed  her  merry  ringing  laugh, 

I  answered  with  a  sigh, 
Strange  echo  to  my  darling's  mirth, 

Though  scarcely  knowing  why. 

Her  childish  beauty  touched  my  heart, 

And  rose  to  a  vision  fair 
Of  far-off  days,  when  another  ring 

That  little  hand  might  wear. 

And  mine — it  might  be  pulseless  then 

Under  the  churchyard  tree  ; 
So  I  drew  her  gently  to  my  side, 

And  took  her  on  my  knee. 

'  It  shall  be  yours,  my  darling/ 

I  said  ;  '  but  not  to-day  ; 
It  shall  be  yours,  my  darling, 

When  I  am  gone  away. ' 

She  glanced  up  quickly  in  my  face, 
Not  sure  that  she  heard  aright ; 

And  the   shadow   that  fell   in   the  sweet 

brown  eyes 
Was  sweeter  than  any  light. 

Then  she  bent  her  head  and  kissed  the 
ring, 

With  a  kiss  both  grave  and  long  ; 
Hardly  the  kiss  of  a  little  child, 

So  fervent  and  so  strong. 


O  CHRISTMAS,    MERRY   CHRISTMAS  ! 

*T   IS   NOT   SO   VERY   LONG 
SINCE  OTHER   VOICES   BLENDED 

WITH   THE  CAROL  AND   THE   SONG  ! 


Page  257. 


'  BELLS  ACROSS   THE    SNOW.' 


257 


And  hardly  the  tones  of  a  little  child, 

That  spoke  so  earnestly, — 
'  Yes  ;  I  will  always  wear  it, 

Mine  it  shall  always  be. 

'  But  oh  !'  (^and  the  eyes,  love-brightened, 

Shone  with  a  sudden  tear), 
'  I  hope  I  shall  never  wear  it, 

Never,  oh  never,  dear  !' 


Five  summers  smoothly  passed  away, 
And  the  sixth  was  drawing  nigh, 

While  herald  glory  woke  the  earth, 
And  filled  the  dazzling  sky. 

An  April  morning,  radiant 

With  June-like  gleam  and  glow, 

Arose  as  fair  as  if  the  world 
No  shade  of  grief  could  know. 

A  tiny  packet  came  for  me. 
With  many  a  dark-edged  fold, 

And  safe  within  it  lay  a  ring, — 
A  little  ring  of  gold. 

Oh,  well  I  knew  its  carving  quaint 

Of  old  ancestral  days  ; 
Last  seen  upon  a  waving  hand 

In  slanting  autumn  rays. 

O  fair  young  hand,  that  waved  good-bye 
With  passing  grace  and  glee  ! 

We  knew  not  that  it  was  farewell, — 
The  last  farewell  for  me. 

The  sweet  bright  spring  that  touched  the 

earth 

With  all-renewing  might, 
For  her  eternal  beauty  brought, 
Eternal  life  and  light. 
17 


All  through  the  solemn  Passion  week 

She  lay  so  still  and  sweet, 
A  carven  lily,  white  and  pure, 

For  God's  own  temple  meet ; — 

Until  the  day  when  Jesus  died, 
The  Saviour  whom  she  knew, 

The  Shepherd  whom  she  followed  home 
The  shadowy  portal  through. 

And  when  the  evening  gently  closed 

That  sad  and  sacred  day, 
They  left  the  last  kiss  on  her  brow, 

And  took  the  ring  away. 


Two  rings  are  always  on  my  hand, 
The  azure  and  the  gold, 

And  they  shall  gleam  together  till 
My  tale  of  life  is  told. 


' BELLS  ACROSS  THE  SNOW.' 

O  CHRISTMAS,  merry  Christmas  ! 

Is  it  really  come  again  ? 
With  its  memories  and  greetings, 

With  its  joy  and  with  its  pain. 
There's  a  minor  in  the  carol, 

And  a  shadow  in  the  light, 
And  a  spray  of  cypress  twining 

With  the  holly  wreath  to-night 
And  the  hush  is  never  broken 

By  laughter  light  and  low, 
As  we  listen  in  the  starlight 

To  the  'bells  across  the  snow/ 

O  Christmas,  merry  Christmas  ? 

Tis  not  so  very  long 
Since  other  voices  blended 

With  the  carol  and  the  song  ! 


258 


UNDER   THE   SURFACE. 


If  we  could  but  hear  them  singing 

As  they  are  singing  now, 
If  we  could  but  see  the  radiance 

Of  the  crown  on  each  dear  brow ; 
There  would  be  no  sigh  to  smother, 

No  hidden  tear  to  flow, 
As  we  listen  in  the  starlight 

To  the  '  bells  across  the  snow/ 

O  Christmas,  merry  Christmas  ! 
This  never  more  can  be  ; 

We  cannot  bring  again  the  days 
Of  our  unshadowed  glee. 

But  Christmas,  happy  Christmas, 
Sweet  herald  of  goodwill, 

With  holy  songs  of  glory- 
Brings  holy  gladness  still. 

For  peace  and  hope  may  brighten, 
And  patient  love  may  glow, 

As  we  listen  in  the  starlight 
To  the  '  bells  across  the  snow/ 


SINGING  AT  SUNSET. 

DID  you  hear  it  at  the  sunset  ? 

Happy,  happy  thrush  ! 
Carolling  and  trilling 

Through  the  evening  hush. 
Singing  at  the  sunset, 

Singing,  singing  sweet, 
Where  the  shadows  and  the  splendor 

Softly,  softly  meet  ; 
Pouring  out  the  full  notes, 

Ringing,  ringing  loud, 
When  the  gold  is  on  the  beeches, 
And  the  crimson  on  the  cloud  ! 
Singing  at  the  sunset ! 
Happy,  happy  song ! 

Shall  we  listen  in  the  sunset, 
Listen,  listen  long, 


Silent  for  the  glory, 

Silent  for  the  song  ? 
Singing  at  the  sunset, 
Angel  voices  hear, 
And  the  harpings  of  the  harpers 

Ringing,  ringing  clear  ; 
Nearing  all  the  gladness, 
Leaving  all  the  gloom, 
When  the  light  is  on  the  River, 
And  the  glory  on  the  tomb 
Singing  at  the  sunset ! 
Happy,  happy  song  ! 


HEATHER  LINTIE.1 

i. 

'  HEATHER  Lintie,  tell  me,  pray, 
Why  the  Snow-wreath  went  away  ? 

'  Silent  Snow-wreath  sat  alone, 
Till  she  heard  the  laughing  call 
Of  the  merriest  stream  of  all 

In  the  land. 

Down  the  steep  from  stone  to  stone, 
Shyly  creeping,  smiling,  weeping, 

While  a  sunbeam  held  her  hand, 
Snow-wreath  found  her  home  ere  long, 
Silence  melted  into  song. 

Now  she  flows,  but  not  alone, 
Singing  and  rejoicing/ 

ii. 

'  Heather  Lintie,  tell  me,  pray, 
Why  the  Burnie  went  away  ?' 

'  Burnie  laughed  ad  own  the  hill, 
Keeping  all  the  flowers  awake, 
Till  she  saw  the  purple  lake 
Deep  and  still. 

i  « Heather  Lintie,'  a  Scotch  linnet ;  «  Burnie,1 
a  little  brook. 


IF   WE  COULD   BUT   HEAR   THEM   SINGING 

AS   THEY   ARE  SINGING   NOW, 
IF   WE  COULD    BUT  SEE  THE   RADIANCE 

OF   THE  CROWN   ON   EACH   DEAR   BROW. 


Page  258. 


DREAM-SINGING. 


259 


Down  the  glen  from  stone  to  stone, 
Blithely  dancing,  glinting,  glancing,. 

Singing  on  in  silver  tone, 
Burnie  found  her  home  ere  long, 
Silence  sweeter  far  than  song  ; 

Now  she  flows,  but  not  alone, 
Resting  and  rejoicing. ' 

in. 

'  Heather  Lintie,  tell  me,  pray, 
Why  you  do  not  fly  away  ?' 

Heather  Lintie  plumed  her  wing, 

Sang  above  a  happy  nest, 

Made  with  one  who  loved  her  best 

In  the  spring. 

Where  beneath  a  boulder-stone, 
In  the  heather  all  together, 

Warmly  nestle  all  her  own. 
Heather  Lintie  will  not  roam 
From  her  sweet  and  hidden  home. 

So  she  sings,  but  not  alone, 
Loving  and  rejoicing. 


SUNBEAM  AND  DEWDROP. 

O  SUNBEAM,  O  sunbeam  ! 

I  would  be  a  sunbeam  too ! 

When  the  winter  chill 

Hushes  lark  and  rill ; 

When  the  thunder-showers 

Bow  the  weeping  flowers  ; 

When  the  shadows  creep, 

Cold,  and  dark,  and  deep, — 
We  would  follow,  swift  and  bright, 
Bending  all  our  love  and  light, 

Chasing  winter,  grim  and  hoary, 
Shining  all  the  tears  away — 

Turning  all  the  gloom  to  glory, 
All  the  darkness  into  day. 


O  dewdrop,  O  dewdrop, 
I  would  be  a  dewdrop  tooJ 
When  the  fatal  glow, 
Sultry,  still  and  slow, 
Makes  the  scentless  flowers 
Droop  in  withering  bowers, 
Leaf  and  shade  and  bloom 
Touched  with  early  doom, — 
We  would  follow,  sweet  and  bright, 
Blending  life  and  love  and  light : 
Making  what  was  parched  and  dreary, 

Glad  and  lovely,  fresh  and  fair, 
Softly  cheering  what  was  weary, 
Sparkling,  starlike,  everywhere. 


DREAM-SINGING, 

I  DREAMT  that  I  was  singing, 

Singing  all  for  thee  : 
And  still  the  notes  went  ringing 

Far  over  land  and  sea. 

Went  ringing  till  they  found  thee, 

Though  so  far  away, 
And,  softly  floating  round  thee, 

Made  music  all  the  day. 

Made  music  that  could  cheer  thee, 

Full  of  gentle  glee  ; 
Then  leaving  echoes  near  thee, 

Came  back  again  to  me. 

Came  back  with  love  and  blessing 

On  their  spirit-wings, 
With  musical  expressing 

Of  sweet  and  holy  things. 

I  dreamt  that  I  was  singing, 

Come  again  to  me  ! 
And  all  its  fairy  ringing 

No  more  a  dream  shall  be. 


26O 


UNDER  THE   SURFACE. 


SHE  WAITS  FOR  ME. 

'  I  WAIT   for   thee  ! '     I    said   it  in   the 

splendor 
Of  golden   moons  beneath  the  lonely 

palms. 
'  I  wait  for  thee  ! '     An  echo,  clear  and 

tender, 

Fell  from  the  height  across  the  silver 
calms. 
For  I  had  waited  long, 

And  hope  was  growing  weary, 
Though  faith  and  love  were  strong, 
And  lit  the  path  so  dreary,  — 
Till  o'er  the  coral  sea 
My  love  should  come  to  me, 
'  I  wait  for  thee. ' 

'  I  wait  for  thee  !  '     I  said  it  in  my  dream- 
ing, 
Then  fell  a  hush  beyond  the  hush  of 

night ; 

And  fairer  far  than  southern  waters  gleam- 
ing, 

A    Presence   passed    in    soft   celestial 
light. 
Then  calm  and  sweet  and  clear, 

A  spirit  voice  came  singing, 
Far,  far  away,  yet  near, 

Like  star-bells'  crystal  ringing. 
Oh,  well  my  own  heart  knew 
That  voice  so  clear  and  true — 
'  I  wait  for  thee ! ' 

'  She  waits  for   me  ! '      I  said  it  in  my 

weeping, 
For  never  more  she  cometh  o'er   the 

sea; 

She  waits  for  me  !    A  glorious  vigil  keep- 
ing 

Beyond  the  stars,  she  waiteth  there  for 
me. 


And  now  I  wait  awhile, 

Beneath  the  palm  trees  lonely, 
And  learn  once  more  to  smile, 
For  she  hath  gladness  only. 
Beside  the  Crystal  Sea, 
Until  the  shadows  flee, 
She  waits  for  me. 


' '  THAT  THY  NAME  is  NEAR,  THY  WON 
DROUS  WORKS  DECLARE.  " — Ps.  IxXV.    I. 

THE  MOUNTAIN  MAIDENS. 

(ZELLA,  DORA,  LISETTA.) 

A  CANTATA. 


Part  L  — Sunrise. 

(i.)  DAWN  CHORUS. 

THE  stars  die  out,  and  the  moon  grows 

dim, 

Slowly,  softly,  the  dark  is  paling  ! 

Comes  o'er  the  eastern  horizon-rim, 

Slowly,  softly,  a  bright  unveiling. 

The  white  mist  floats  in  the  vale  at  rest, 
Ghostly,  dimly,  a  silver  shiver  ; 

The  golden  east  and  the  purple  west 
Flushing  deep  with  a  crimson  quiver. 

The    mountains    gleam    with    expectant 
light, 

Near  and  grandly,  or  far  and  faintly, 
In  festal  robing  of  solemn  white, 

Waiting,  waiting,  serene  and  saintly. 


Lo !  on  the  mountain-crest,  sudden  and 

fair, 
Bright  herald  of  morning,  the  rose-tint  is 

there  ; 


THE   MOUNTAIN    MAIDENS. 


26l 


Peak  after  peak  lighteth  up  with  the  glow 
That  crowneth  with  ruby  the  Alpine  snow. 

Summit   on   summit,    and   crest  beyond 

crest, 
The   beacons  are  spreading  away  to  the 

west; 

Crimson  and  fire,  and  amber  and  rose, 
Touch  with  life  and  with  glory  the  Alpine 

snows. 

(2.)  CHORALE. 

Father,  who  hast  made  the  mountains, 
Who  hast  formed  each  tiny  flower, 

Who  hast  filled  the  crystal  fountains, 
Who  hast  sent  us  sun  and  shower ; 

Hear  Thy  children's  morning  prayer, 

Asking  for  Thy  guardian  care  ; 

Keep  and  guide  us  all  the  day, 

Lead  us  safely  all  the  way. 

Let  Thy  glorious  creation 

Be  the  whisper  of  Thy  power  ; 

New  and  wondrous  revelation 
Still  unfolding  every  hour. 

Let  the  blessing  of  Thy  love 

Rest  upon  us  from  above  ; 

And  may  evening  gladness  be 

Full  of  thanks  and  praise  to  Thee. 

(3. )  RECITATIVE. — Dora. 
Our  pleasant  summer  work  begins.     You 

O  merry  Zella,  with  the  obedient  herd 
To  upland  pastures,  singing  all  the  way. 
And  you,  Lisetta,  to  the  sterner  heights, 
Where  only  foot  of  Alpine  goat  may  pass, 
Or  step  of  mountain  maiden.  It  is  mine 
To  work  at  home  preparing  smooth  white 

cheese 
For  winter  store,  and  often  needed  gain. 


And  mine   the  joy   of  welcoming  once 

more 
My  loving  sisters  when  the  evening  falls. 

(4.)  SONG. — Dora. 

The  morning  light  flingeth 

Its  wakening  ray, 
And  as  the  day  bringeth 

The  work  of  the  day, 
The  happy  heart  singeth  ; 

Awake  and  away  ! 

No  life  can  be  dreary 
When  work  is  delight  ; 

Though  evening  be  weary, 
Rest  cometh  at  night ; 

And  all  will  be  cheery, 
If  faithful  and  right. 

When  duty  is  treasure, 

And  labor  a  joy, 
How  sweet  is  the  leisure 

Of  ended  employ ! 
Then  only  can  pleasure 

Be  free  from  alloy. 

{Repeat  v.  I. 

(5.)  SONG.— Zella. 

Away,  away  !  with  the  break  of  day 

To  the  sunny  upland  slope  ! 
Away,  away  !  while  the  earliest  ray 

Tells  of  radiant  joy  and  hope. 

With  the  gentle  herd  that  know  the  word 

Of  kindness  and  of  care, 
While  with  footsteps  free  they  follow  me, 

As  I  lead  them  anywhere. 

Away,  away  I  with  a  merry  lay, 

And  the  chime  of  a  hundred  bells  ; 

Away,  away  !  with  a  carol  gay, 
And  an  echo  from  the  fells. 


262 


UNDER  THE   SURFACE. 


To  the  pastures  high,  where  the  shining 

sky 

Looks  down  on  a  wealth  of  flowers  ; 
To  the  sapphire  spots,  where  forget-me- 
nots 
Smile  on  through  lonely  hours. 

Away,  away  !  while  the  breezes  play 

In  the  fragrant  summer  morn  ; 
Away,  away  !  while  the  rock-walls  grey 

Resound  with  the  Alpen-horn. 
I'o  the  crags,  all  bright  in  the  golden  light 

With  floral  diadems, 
As  fresh  and  fair,  as  '  rich  and  rare, ' 
As  any  roval  gems. 

Away,  away  !    while  the  rainbow  spray 

Wreaths  the  silver  waterfalls  ; 
Away,  away  !     Oh,  I  cannot  stay 

When  the  voice  of  the  morning  calls  ! 

(6. )  RECITATIVE. — Lisetta. 

Adieu,  my  Dora  !  Zella  dear,  adieu  ! 
The   quick  light  tinkle  of  the  goat-bells 

now 

Reminds  me  they  are  waiting  for  my  call, 
To  follow  where  small  flowers  have  dared 

to  peep 
And  laugh,   beside  the  glacier  and  the 

snow. 
I  shall  not  go  alone,  your  love  shall  go 

with  me. 

(7.)  DUET. — Zella  and  Dora. 

Adieu,  adieu  till  eventide  ! 

The  hours  will  quickly  pass, 
The  shadow  of  the  rocks  will  glide 

Across  the  sunny  grass. 
We  shall  not  mourn  the  lessening  light, 
For  we  shall  meet  at  home  to-night. 


Adieu,  adieu,  till  eventide  ! 

The  hour  of  home  and  rest. 
The  hour  that  finds  us  side  by  side, 

The  sweetest  and  the  best. 
For  love  is  joy,  and  love  is  light, 
And  we  shall  meet  at  home  to-night ! 

Adieu,  adieu  till  eventide  ! 

'Tis  but  a  little  while  ! 
We  would  not  stay  the  morning's  pride, 

Or  noontide's  dazzling  smile. 
But  welcome  evening's  waning  light, 
For  we  shall  meet  at  home  to-night ! 


Part  II. — Noon. 
(8.)  SONG. — Lisetta. 

It  is  noon  upon  the  mountains,  and  the 

breeze  has  died  away, 
And  the  rainbow  of  the  morning  passes 

from  the  torrent  spray, 
And  a  calm  of  golden  silence  falls  upon 

the  glistening  snow, 
While   the   shadows  of  the   noon-clouds 

rest  upon  the  glen  below. 

It  is  noon  upon  the  mountains,  noon  up- 
on the  giant  rocks ; 

Hushed  the  tinkle  of  the  goat-bells,  and 
the  bleating  of  the  flocks  ; 

They  are  sleeping  on  the  gentians,  and 
upon  the  craggy  height, 

In  the  glow  of  Alpine  noon-tide,  in  the 
glory  of  the  light. 

It  is  noon  upon  the  mountains  :  I  will 
rest  beside  the  snow, 

Glittering  summits  far  above  me,  blue- 
veined  glaciers  far  below ; 


THE   MOUNTAIN   MAIDENS. 


263 


I    will   rest    upon  the  gentians,   till   the 

quiet  shadows  creep, 
Cool   and    soft,    along     the    mountains, 

waking  me  from  pleasant  sleep. 

(9.)  NOON  CHORUS. 

Rest  !  while  the  noon  is  high, 

Rest  while  the  glow 
Falls  from  the  summer  sky 

Over  the  snow. 

Rest  I  where  the  Alpen-rose 

Crimsons  the  height, 
Piercing  the  mountain-snows, 

Purpling  the  light. 
Rest !  while  the  waterfalls, 

Murmuring  deep 
Far-away  lullabies, 

Hush  thee  to  sleep. 

Rest !  while  the  noon,  etc. 

Rest !  where  the  mountains  rise, 

Shining  and  white ; 
Piercing  the  deep  blue  skies, 

Solemn  and  bright. 
Sleep  !  while  the  silence  falls, 

Soothing  to  rest, 
Sweetest  of  lullabies, 

Calming  and  blest. 

Rest  !  while  the  noon,  etc. 

( i  o. )  RECITATIVE.  — Lisetta. 

Where  am  I  ?    I  was  sleeping  by  the  snow 
Upon  the  Alpen-roses  in  the  noon. 
But  am  I  dreaming  now  ?    The  sun  is  low, 
'Tis  twilight  in  the  valley,  and  I  hear 
No  music   of  the  goat-bells.     Oh,  I  fear 
It  is  no  dream,  but  night  is  coming  soon, 
And  I  am  all  alone  upon  the  height, 
And  there  are  small  faint  tracks,  too  quick- 
ly lost, 

That   needs  sure  foot  and  eye  in  fullest 
light, 


And   crags   to  leap,   and   torrents  to   be 

crossed  ! 
I  go  !   may  Power  and  Love  still  guard 

and  guide  aright 

( 1 1 . )  SONG.  — Lisetta. 

Alone,  alone  !  yet  around  me  stand 
God's  mountains,  still  and  grand  ! 
Still  and  grand,  serene  and  bright, 
Sentinels  clothed  in  armor  white, 
And  hel meted  with  scarlet  light. 
His  Power  is  near, 
I  need  not  fear. 

Beneath  the  shadow  of  His  Throne 
Alone,  alone,  yet  not  alone  ! 

Alone,  alone  !  yet  beneath  me  sleep 
The  flowers  His  hand  doth  keep. 
Small  and  fair,  by  crag  or  dell, 
Trustfully  closing  star  and  bell, 
Eve  by  eve  as  twilight  fell. 
His  Love  is  near, 
I  need  not  fear. 

Beneath  the  rainbow  of  His  Throne, 
Alone,  alone,  yet  not  alone  ! 

Alone,  alone !  yet  I  will  not  fear, 
For  Power  and  Love  are  near, 
Step  by  step,  by  rock  and  rill, 
Trustfully  onward,  onward  still, 
I  follow  home  with  hope  and  will ! 
So  near,  so  near, 
I  do  not  fear  ! 
Beneath  the  Presence  of  His  Throne, 
Alone,  alone,  yet  not  alone  ! 


Part  III — Sunset. 
(12. )  SUNSET  CHORUS. 
It  is  coming,  it  is  coming, 
That  marvellous  up-summing, 
Of  the  loveliest  and  grandest  all  in  one 
The  great  transfiguration, 


264 


UNDER   THE   SURFACE. 


And  the  royal  coronation, 
Of  the  Monarch  of  the  mountains  by  the 
priestly  Sun. 

Watch  breathlessly  and  hearken, 

While  the  forest  throne-steps  darken 
His  investiture  in  crimson  and  in  fire ; 

Not  a  herald-trumpet  ringeth, 

Not  a  paean  echo  flingeth, 
There  is  music  of  a  silence  that  is  mightier 
far,  and  higher. 

Then  in  radiant  obedience, 
A  flush  of  bright  allegiance 
Lights   up   the  vassal-summits  and    the 

proud  peaks  all  around  ; 
And  a  thrill  of  mystic  glory 
Quivers  on  the  glaciers  hoary, 
As  the  ecstasy  is  full,  and  the  mighty  brow 
is  crowned. 

Crowned  with  ruby  of  resplendence 
In  unspeakable  transcendence, 
'Neath  a  canopy  of  purple  and  of  gold 

outspread, 

With  rock-sceptres  upward  pointing, 
While  the  glorious  anointing 
Of  the  consecrating  sunlight  is  poured  up- 
on his  head. 

Then  a  swift  and  still  transition 
Falls  upon  the  gorgeous  vision, 
And  the  ruby  and  the  fire  pass  noiselessly 

away  ; 

But  the  paling  of  the  splendor 
Leaves  a  rose-light,  clear  and  tender, 
And  lovelier  than  the  loveliest  dream  that 
melts  before  the  day. 

Oh,  to  keep  it,  oh  to  hold  it, 
While  the  tremulous  rays  enfold  it ! 
Oh  to  drink  in  all  the  beauty,  and  never 

thirst  again  ! 
Yet  less  lovely,  if  less  fleeting  ! 


For  the  mingling  and  the  meeting 
Of  the  wonder  and  the  rapture  can  but 
overflow  in  pain. 

It  is  passing,  it  is  passing  : 
While  the  softening  glow  is  glassing 
In  the  crystal  of  the  heavens  all  the  fairest 

of  its  rose. 

Ever  faintly  and  more  faintly, 
Ever  saintly  and  more  saintly, 
Gleam   the  snowy  heights  around  us  in 
holiest  repose. 

O  pure  and  perfect  whiteness  ! 
O  mystery  of  brightness 
Upon    those   still,    majestic  brows   shed 

solemnly  abroad  ! 

Like  the  calm  and  blessed  sleeping 
Of  saints  in  Christ's  own  keeping, 
When  the  smile  of  holy  peace  is  left,  last 
witness  for  their  God. 

(13.)  SONG. — Dora. 

The  tuneful  chime  of  the  herd  is  still, 

For  the  milking  hour  is  past, 
And  tinkle,  tinkle,  along  the  hill, 

The  goat-bells  come  at  last 
But  sister,  sister,  where  art  thou  ? 
We  watch  and  wait  for  thy  coming  now. 

The  crimson  fades  from  the  farthest  height, 
And  the  rose-fire  pales  away  ; 

And  softly,  softly,  the  shroud  of  night 
Enfolds  the  dying  day. 

But  sister,  sister,  where  art  thou  ? 

We  watch  and  wait  for  thy  coming  now. 

The  cold  wind  swells  from  the  icy  steep, 
And  the  pine-trees  quake  and  moan  ; 

And  darkly,  darkly  the  grey  clouds  creep, 
And  thou  art  all  alone. 

O  sister,  sister,  where  art  thou  ? 

We  watch  and  wait  for  thy  coming  now. 


THE   MOUNTAIN  MAIDENS. 


265 


(14.)  DUET.  — Zella  and  Dora . 

We  will  seek  thee,  we  will  find  thee, 

Though    the    night-winds    howl    anc 

sweep  ! 
We  will  follow  through  the  torrent, 

We  will  follow  up  the  steep. 
Follow  where  the  Alpen-roses 

Make  the  mountain  all  aglow, 
Follow,  follow  through  the  forest, 

Follow,  follow  to  the  snow  ! 
And  our  Alpine  call  shall  echo 

From  the  rock  and  from  the  height, 
Till  a  gladder  tone  rebounding, 
Thine  own  merry  voice  resounding, 

Fill  us  with  a  great  delight. 

Lisetta  !     Lisetta ! 
Hush  and  hearken  !     Call  again  ! 

Lisetta !     Lisetta  ! 
Hearken,  hearken  !     All  in  vain  ! 

We  will  seek  thee,  we  will  find  thee, 

In  the  wary  chamois'  haunt  ; 
Toil  and  terror,  doubt  and  danger, 

Loving  hearts  shall  never  daunt ! 
We  will  follow  in  the  darkness, 

We  will  follow  in  the  light  ; 
Follow,  follow  till  we  find  thee, 
Through  the  noon  or  through  the  night. 
We  will  seek  thee,  we  will  find  thee, 

Never  weary  till  we  hear, 
Over  all  the  torrents'  rushing, 
Joyous  answer  clearly  gushing, 

Thine  own  Alpine  echo  dear  I 

Lisetta  !     Lisetta  ! 
Hush  and  hearken  !     All  in  vain  1 

Lisetta !     Lisetta  ! 
Hearken,  hearken  !     Call  again  ! 

(15.)  TRIO. — Zella,  Dora,  and  Lisetta. 

LISETTA  (pp. )  I  am  coming  ! 

ZELLA  and  DORA  (/").  She  is  coming  ! 


LISETTA  (/).  I  am  coming,  wait  for  me  ! 
ZELLA  and  DOKA  (/»).  She  is  coming  ! 
LISETTA  (mf).  I  am  coming  ! 
ZELLA  and  DORA  (f).  Come,  oh  come,  we 
wait  for  thee  1 

Nearer,  nearer  comes  the  echo, 

Nearer,  nearer  comes  the  voice, 
Nearer,  nearer  fall  the  footsteps, 

Making  us  indeed  rejoice. 
LISETTA.  I  am  coming,  wait  for  me ! 
ZELLA  and  DORA.  Come,  oh  come,  we  wait 
for  thee  ! 

ZELLA,  DORA,  and  LISETTA. 

We  C  her,  }  we  (  her, 

•j  have  sought  >-  -|  have  found 

They  (  me,  )  they  (  me, 

Fear  and  danger  all  are  past, 

with  joyful  song 


Safely,  safely  home  at  last ! 

(16.)  CHORUS. — Finale. 

Safe  home,  safe  home  1 
Fear  and  danger  all  are  past, 
We  are  safely  home  at  last ! 

Oh,  the  love-light  shed  around, 

In  a  rich  and  radiant  flow, 
When  the  lost  and  loved  are  found, 

Is  the  sweetest  heart  can  know. 
Fairer  than  the  dawn-light  tender, 

Fuller  than  the  noontide  glow, 
Brighter  than  the  sunset-splendor, 

Purer  than  the  moonlit  snow. 

Now  let  the  wild  cloud  sweep, 

Let  the  wild  rain  pour  ! 
let  the  avalanche  leap 

With  its  long  grand  roar  ! 
Now  let  the  black  night  fall 

On  the  mountain  crest ! 


266 


UNDER  THE  SURFACE. 


Safe  are  our  dear  ones  all 
In  our  mountain  nest 

Safe  home,  safe  home  1 
Fear  and  danger  all  are  past, 
We  are  safely  home  at  last ! 


A  SEEING  HEARTS 

TO    '  FANNY   CROSBY. ' 

SWEET  blind  singer  over  the  sea, 
Tuneful  and  jubilant !  how  can  it  be, 
That  the  songs  of  gladness,  which  float 

so  far, 

As  if  they  fell  from  from  an  evening  star, 
Are  the  notes  of  one  who  never  may  see 
'  Visible  music '  of  flower  and  tree, 
Purple  of  mountain,  or  glitter  of  snow, 
Ruby  and  gold  of  the  sunset  glow, 
And  never  the  light  of  a  loving  face  ? 
Must  not  the  world  be  a  desolate  place 
For  eyes  that  are  sealed  with  the  seal  of 

years, 

Eyes  that  are  open  only  for  tears  ? 
How  can  she  sing  in  the  dark  like  this, 
What  is  her  fountain  of  light  and  bliss  ? 

Oh,  her  heart  can  see,  her  heart  can  see  ! 
And  its  sight  is  strong,  and  swift  and  free. 
Never  the  ken  of  mortal  eye 
Could  pierce  so  deep  and  far  and  high 
As  the  eagle  vision  of  hearts  that  dwell 
In  the  lofty,  sunlit  citadel 


1  Many  sweet  hymns  by  Fanny  Crosby  have 
become  known,  and  are  warmly  appreciated  in 
England  and  Scotland.  In  answer  to  the  in- 
quiry, '  Who  is  Fanny  Crosby  ?  '  the  following 
beautiful  reply  was  received: — 'She  is  a  blind 
lady,  whose  heart  can  see  splendidly  in  the  sun- 
shine of  God's  love.'  Hence  the  above  greeting 
to  a  far-off  fellow-minister  of  song. 


Of  Faith  that  overcomes  the  world, 
With  banners  of  Hope  and  Joy  unfurled, 
Garrisoned  with  God's  perfect  Peace, 
Ringing  with  paeans  that  never  cease, 
Flooded  with  splendor  bright  and  broad, 
The  glorious  light  of  the  Love  of  God. 

Her  heart  can  see,  her  heart  can  see  ! 

Well  may  she  sing  so  joyously  ! 

For   the   King   Himself,   in   His   tender 

grace, 
Hath   shown  her  the   brightness  of  His 

face: 
And   who    shall    pine  for   a  glow-worm 

light, 
When  the  Sun  goes  forth  in  His  radiant 

might  ? 

She  can  read  His  law  as  a  shining  chart, 
For   His    finger   hath    written  it  on  her 

heart ; 

She  can  read  His  love,  for  on  all  her  way 
His  hand  is  writing  it  every  day. 
'  Bright  cloud '  indeed  must  that  darkness 

be, 
Where  '  Jesus  only '  the  heart  can  see. 

Her  heart  can  see  !  her  heart  can  see, 
Beyond  the  glooms  and  the  mystery, 
Glimpses  of  glory,  not  far  away, 
Nearing  and  brightening  day  by  day  ; 
Golden  crystal  and  emerald  bow, 
Lustre  of  pearl  and  sapphire  glow, 
Sparkling  river  and  healing  tree, 
Evergreen  palms  of  victory, 
Harp  and  crown  and  raiment  white, 
Holy  and  beautiful  dwellers  in  light ; 
A  throne,  and  One  thereon,  whose  face 
Is  the  glory  of  that  glorious  place. 

Dear  blind  sister  over  the  sea  ! 

An  English  heart  goes  forth  to  thee. 


MY   WINDOW. 


267 


We   are  linked  by  a  cable  of  faith  and 

song, 

Flashing  bright  sympathy  swift  along ; 
One  in  the  East  and  one  in  the  West, 
Singing  for  Him  whom  our  souls  love 

best, 

'Singing  for  Jesus,'  telling  His  love 
All  the  way  to  our  home  above, 
Where  the  severing  sea,  with  its  restless 

tide, 

Never  shall  hinder,  and  never  divide. 
Sister  !  what  will  our  meeting  be, 
When  our  hearts  shall  sing  and  our  eyes 

shall  see  ! 


JULY  ON  THE  MOUNTAINS. 

(ON   THE   SNOWDON    RANGER   TRACK.) 

THERE  is  sultry  gloom  on  the  mountain 
brow, 

And  a  sultry  glow  beneath. 
Oh  for  a  breeze  from  the  western  sea, 
Soft  and  reviving,  sweet  and  free, 
Over  the  shadowless  hill  and  lea, 

Over  the  barren  heath  ! 

There   are   clouds  and  darkness  around 

God's  ways, 

And  the  noon  of  life  grows  hot ; 
And    though    His    faithfulness    standeth 

fast, 
As  the  mighty  mountains,    a   shroud   is 

cast 

Over  its  glory,  solemn  and  vast, 
Veiling,  but  changing  it  not. 

Send    a  sweet   breeze  from  Thy   sea,   O 

Lord. 

From  Thy  deep,  deep  sea  of  Love  ; 
Though  it  lift  not  the  veil  from  the  cloudy 

height, 


Let  the  brow  grow  cool  and  the  footstep 

light, 

As  it  comes  with  holy  and  soothing  might, 
Like  the  wing  of  a  snowy  dove. 


MY  WINDOW. 

UNDER  my  window  my  couch  is  set, 
I  have  gazed  through  it  long,  I  am  gaz- 
ing yet  : 

While  on  my  table  lie, 
Without  one  look,  each  treasured  book, 

And  the  verses  planned, 
Which  will  have  to  be  copied  by  and  by, 
For  the  pencil  fell  from  forgetful  hand. 

Though  all  that  from  my  couch  I  see 
Is  the  topmost  bough  of  a  leafless  tree, 

Clear  pencilled  where  the  blue 
Dies  into  white  as  it  meets  the  light 

From  the  bright  south-east, 
I  have  revelled  in  my  morning  view, 
My  eyes  have  had  a  very  feast. 

Last  night  I  sat  without  a  lamp, 
When  the  clouds  broke  up  their  sullen 
camp. 

Through  the  tiny  pointed  arch, 
With  its  one  cross-bar,  I  watched  a  star, 

As  on  unknown  quest, 
Just  touch  the  zenith  of  its  march, 
And  curve  its  path  to  the  solemn  west 

Now  all  the  clouds  have  fled  away, 
The  Dark  has  died,  and  the  living  Day 

Has  dropped  the  stars  on  her  shroud  ; 
And  as  I  lie,  the  shining  sky 

Is  so  grandly  bright, 
With  so  much  radiance  endowed, 
That  it  trembles  with  its  wealth  of  light 


268 


UNDER  THE  SURFACE. 


A  wealth  that  is  enough  for  me, — 
I  need  not  mountain,  wood,  or  sea, 

In  many-tinted  sight ; 
This  seven-rayed  flow  of  pure  white  glow 

Through  the  sapphire  air, 
This  calming  glory  of  the  Light, 
Is  so  unutterably  fair 

It  is  not  idle  to  employ 
Quick-passing  moments  on  a  joy, 

Like  these  sweet  morning  rays. 
So  I  do  not  think,  but  rest  and  drink 

From  the  crystal  river, 
While  a  dewdrop  of  rejoicing  praise 
Floats  up  to  Him  the  kind  Light-Giver  ! 


CANDLEMAS  DAY. 

YES,  take  the  greenery  away 

That  smiled  to  welcome  Christmas  Day, 

Untwine  the  drooping  ivy  spray. 

The  holly  leaves  are  dusty  all, 
Whose  glossy  darkness  robed  the  wall, 
And  one  by  one  the  berries  fair. 

Take  down  the  yew,  for  with  a  touch 
The  leaflets  drop,  as  wearied  much 
With  light  and  song,  unused  to  such. 

Poor  evergreens !     Why  proudly  claim 
The  glory  of  your  lovely  name, 
So  soon  meet  only  for  the  flame  ? 

Another  Christmas  Day  will  show 
Another  green  and  scarlet  glow, 
A  fresh  array  of  mistletoe. 

And  this  new  beauty,  arch  or  crown, 
Will  stiffen,  gather  dust,  grow  brown, 
And  in  its  turn  be  taken  down. 


To-night  the  walls  will  seem  so  bare  .' 
Ah,  well  !  look  out,  look  up,  for  there 
The  Christmas  stars  are  always  fair. 

They  will  be  shining  just  as  clear 

Another  and  another  year, 

O'er  all  our  darkened  hemisphere. 

So  Christmas  mirth  has  fleeted  fast, 
The  songs  of  time  can  never  last, 
And  all  is  buried  with  the  past. 

But  Christmas  love  and  joy  and  peace 
Shall  never  fade  and  never  cease, 
Of  God's  goodwill  the  rich  increase. 


'NOW/' 

i. 
A  NIGHT  of  danger  on  the  sea, 

Of  sleeplessness  and  fear  ! 
Wave  after  wave  comes  thundering 

Against  the  strong  stone  pier  ; 
Each  with  a  terrible  recoil, 

And  a  grim  and  gathering  might, 
As  blast  on  blast  comes  howling  past, 
Each  wild  gust  wilder  than  the  last, 

All  through  that  awful  night. 

ii. 

Well  for  the  ships  in  the  harbor  now, 

Which  came  with  the  morning  tide ; 
With  unstrained  cable  and  anchor  sure, 

How  quietly  they  ride  1 
Well  for  the  barque  that  reached  at  eve, 

Though  watched  with  breathless  fear, 
It  was  sheltered  first  ere  the  tempest  burst, 

It  is  safe  inside  the  pier  ! 

in. 

But  see  !  a  faint  and  fatal  light 
Out  on  the  howling  sea  ! 


'  NOW  !' 


269 


'Tis  a  vessel  that  seeks  the  harbor  mouth, 

As  in  death-agony. 

Though  the  strong  stone  arms  are  open 
wide, 

She  has  missed  the  only  way  ; 
'Tis  all  too  late,  for  the  storm  drives  fast, 
The  mighty  waves  have  swept  her  past, 
And  against  that  sheltering  pier  shall  cast 

Their  wrecked  and  shattered  prey. 

IV. 

Nearer  and  nearer  the  barque  is  borne, 

As  over  the  deck  they  dash, 
Where  sailors  five  are  clinging  fast 
To  the  sailless  stump  of  the  broken  mast, 

Waiting  the  final  crash. 
Is  it  all  too  late  ?  is  there  succor  yet 

Those  perishing  men  to  reach  ? 
Life  is  so  near  on  the  firm-built  pier, 

That  else  must  be  death  to  each. 

v. 

There  are  daring  hearts  and  powerful  arms, 

And  swift  and  steady  feet, 
And  they  rush  as  down  to  a  yawning  grave, 
In  the  strong  recoil  of  the  mightiest  wave, 
Treading  that  awful  path  to  save, 

As  they  trod  a  homeward  street. 
Over  the  boulders  and  foam  they  rush 

Into  the  ghastly  hollow  ; 
They  fling  the  rope  to  the  heaving  wreck, 
The  aim  was  sure,  and  it  strikes  the  deck, 

As  the  shouts  of  quick  hope  follow. 

VI. 

Reached,  but  not  saved  !  there  is  more  to 
do, 

A  trumpet  note  is  heard  ; 
And  over  the  rage  and  over  the  roar 
Of  billowy  thunders  on  the  shore, 

Rings  out  the  guiding  word. 


There  is  one  chance,  and  only  one, 
All  can  be  saved,  but  how  ? 

'  The  rope  holdfast,  but  quit  the  mast 
At  the  trumpet-signal— "  NOW  !"  ' 

VII. 

There  is  a  moment  when  the  sea 

Has  spent  its  furious  strength  ; 
A  shuddering  pause  with  a,  sudden  swirl, 
Gathering  force  again  to  hurl 
Billow  on  billow  in  whirl  on  whirl  ; 

That  moment  comes  at  length — 
With  a  single  shout  the  '  Now '  peals  out, 

And  the  answering  leap  is  made. 
Well  for  the  simple  hearts  that  just 
Loosing  the  mast  with  fearless  trust, 

The  strange  command  obeyed  ! 

VIII. 

For  the  rope  is  good,  and  the  stout  arms 
pull 

Ere  the  brief  storm-lull  is  o'er  ; 
It  is  but  a  swift  and  blinding  sweep 
Through   the  waters  wild  and  dark  and 
deep, 

And  the  men  are  safe  on  shore — 
Safe  !  though  the  fiend-like  blast  pursue, 

Safe  !  though  the  waves  dash  high  ; 
But  the  ringing  cheer  that  rises  clear 

Is  pierced  with  a  sudden  cry  : 

IX. 

*  There  are  but  four  drawn  up  to  shore, 

And  five  were  on  the  deck  !' 
And  the  straining  gaze  that  conquers  gloom 
Still  traces,  drifting  on  to  doom, 

One  man  upon  the  wreck. 
Again  they  chase  in  sternest  race 

The  far-recoiling  wave  ; 
The  rope  is  thrown  to  the  tossing  mark, 
But  reaches  not  in  the  windy  dark 

The  one  they  strive  to  save. 


2/O 


UNDER   THE    SURFACE. 


I. 

Again  they  rush,  and  again  they  fail, 

Again,  and  yet  again  : 
The  storm  yells  back  defiance  loud, 
The  breakers  rear  a  rampart  proud, 

And  roar,  '  In  vain,  in  vain  !' 

XI. 

Then  a  giant  wave  caught  up  the  wreck, 

And  bore  it  on  its  crest ; 
One  moment  it  hung  quivering  there 

In  horrible  arrest. 
And  the  lonely  man  on  the  savage  sea 

A  lightning  flash  uplit, 
Still  clinging  fast  to  the  broken  mast 

That  he  had  not  dared  to  quit 

XII. 

Then  horror  of  great  darkness  fell, 

While  eyes  flashed  inward  fire ; 
And  over  all  the  roar  and  dash, 
Through  that  great  blackness  came  a  crash, 

A  token  sure  and  dire. 
The  wave  had  burst  upon  the  pier, 

The  wreck  was  scattered  wide  ; 
Another  '  Now '  would  never  reach 
The  corpse  that  lay  upon  the  beach 

With  the  receding  tide. 

XIII. 

God's  '  Now '  is  sounding  in  your  cars  ; 

Oh,  let  it  reach  your  heart ! 
Not  only  from  your  sinfulness 

He  bids  you  part  ; 
Your  righteousness  as  filthy  rags 

Must  all  relinquished  be, 
And  only  Jesus'  precious  death 

Must  be  your  plea. 

XIV. 

Now  trust  the  one  provided  rope, 
Now  quit  the  broken  mast, 


Before  the  hope  of  safety  be 

For  ever  past. 
Fear  not  to  trust  His  simple  word, 

So  sweet,  so  tried,  so  true, 
And  you  are  safe  for  evermore ; 

Yes, — even  you  ! 


LIGHT  A T  EVENTIDE.  * 

'  At  evening  time  it  shall  be  light.' — Zech.  xiv.  7. 

DEAR  Lord,  Thy  good  and  precious  Book 

seems  written  all  for  me  ; 
Wherever  I  may  open  it,    I    find  a  word 

from  Thee. 
My  eyes  are  dim,   but   this   one  verse   is 

pillow  for  the  night, 
Thy  promise   that  'At   Evening   Time  it 

shall  be 'surely  Might.' 

It  was  not  always  light  with  me  ;  for  many 
a  sinful  year 

I  walked  in  darkness  far  from  Thee  ;  but 
Thou  hast  brought  me  near, 

And  washed  me  in  Thy  precious  blood, 
and  taught  me  by  Thy  grace, 

And  lifted  up  on  my  poor  soul  the  bright- 
ness of  Thy  face. 

My  Saviour  died  in  darkness  that  I  might 

live  in  light, 
He  closed  His  eyes   in    death   that   mine 

might  have  the  heavenly  sight ; 
He  gave  up  all  His  glory  to  bring  it  down 

to  me, 
And  took  the  sinner's  place  that  He  the 

sinner's  Friend  might  be. 


1  Written  to  accompany  an  engraving  : — An 
old  man,  worn,  but  peaceful,  sitting  at  his  cot- 
tage door  in  evening  sunlight,  with  The  Book 
on  his  knee. 


'YET   SPEAKETH.' 


271 


His  Spirit  shines  upon  His  Word,  and 
makes  it  sweet  indeed, 

Just  like  a  shining  lamp  held  up  beside 
me  as  I  read  ; 

And  brings  it  to  my  mind  again  alone  up- 
on my  bed, 

Till  all  abroad  within  my  heart  the  love  of 
God  is  shed. 

I've  nearly  passed  the  shadows,   and  the 

sorrows  here  below  ; 
A  little  while — a  little  while,  and  He  will 

come,  I  know, 
And  take  me  to  the  glory  that  I  think   is 

very  near, 
Where  I  shall  see  Him   face   to  face  and 

His  kind  welcome  hear. 

And  now  my  loving  Jesus  is  my  Light  at 

Eventide, 
The  welcome  Guest  that  enters  in  for  ever 

to  abide  ; 
He  never  leaves  me  in  the  dark,  but  leads 

me  all  the  way, — 
So  it  is  light  at  Evening  Time,  and   soon 

it  will  be  Day  ! 


'  YET  SPEAKETH: 

'  YET    speaketh  !'   though   the   voice   is 

hushed  that  rilled 

Cathedral  nave  or  choir,  like  clearest  bell, 
With  music  of  God's  truth, — that  softly 

thrilled 
The  silence  of  the  mourner's  heart, — that 

fell 

So  sweetly,  oh,  so  sweetly,  on  the  ear 
Of  those  to  whom  that  voice  was  dearest 

of  the  dear. 

'  Yet  speaketh  !'     For  the  echo  lingers  yet 


Where  fifty  years  ago  his  voice  was  heard,    she,  too,  is «  gone  home. 


And  old  men  weep,  who  never  can  forget 

Their  early  gladness  through  his  faithful 
word  ; 

O'er  all  the  waves  and  storms  of  life  be- 
tween, 

That  voice  floats  on  for  them  still  power- 
ful and  serene. 

'  Yet  speaketh  !'      Glowing  hymns,  like 

heavenly  breeze, 

That  stir  us,  and  our  soft  Hosannas  lift 
To  Hallelujahs  ; — holy  melodies, 
Enrobed  in  grand  sweet  harmonies,  a  gift 
Laid  wholly  on  the  altar  of  his  God, 
Without   one   thought    or  care   for   this 

world's  vain  applaud  : 

Deep  teachings  from  the  Word  he  held  so 
dear, 

Things  new  and  old  in  that  great  treasure 
found  ; 

A  valiant  cry,  a  witness  strong  and  clear, 

A  trumpet  with  no  pale,  uncertain 
sound : — 

These  shall  not  die,  but  live  ;  his  rich  be- 
quest 

To  that  belovdd  Church  whose  servant  is 
at  rest. 

'  Yet  speaketh  !'     In  the  memory  of  those 
To  whom   he  was   indeed    '  a    living 

song/1 
The   voice,  that  like  fair  morning  light 

arose, 
Rings  on  with  holy  influence  deep  and 

strong  ; 

Rings  on,  unmingled  with  another  sound, 
The   sweetest,    clearest  still   among    all 

others  found. 


A  blind  girl,  who  heard  two  or  three  of  his 
last  sermons,  said  «  He  was  a  living  song  to  me.' 


272 


UNDER   THE   SURFACE. 


'  Yet  speaketh  !'     By  that  consecrated  life, 
The  single-hearted,,  noble,    true,    and 

pure, 
Which,  lifted  far  above  all  worldly  strife, 

Could  all  but  sin  so  patiently  endure. 
O  eloquence  !  by  this  he  speaketh  yet ; 
For  who  that  knew  and  loved  could 
evermore  forget? 

'Yet  speaketh  !'     E'en  the  shadow,  poor 

and  dim, 

Of   sun -traced  portrait,  and  the  cold, 
white  stone 

(All  that  the  stranger-artist  guessed  of  him), 
Speak   to  our  hearts  in    gentle  spirit- 
tone, 

Vocal  with  messages  of  faith  and  love, 

And  burning  thoughts  that  fall  like  swift 
stars  from  above. 


'Yet  speaketh  !'     There  was  no  last  word 

of  love, 

So  suddenly  on  us  the  sorrow  fell ; 
His  bright  translation  to  the  home  above 
Was  clouded  with  no  shadow  of  farewell ; 
His  last  Lent  evening  closed  with  praise 

and  prayer, 

And   then   began   the  songs   of  endless 
Easter  there. 

'  Yet  speaketh  !'     O  my  father,  now  more 

dear 
Than  ever,  I  have  cried — 'Oh,   speak 

to  me 
Only  once  more,  once  more  !'     But  now 

1  hear 

The  far-off  whisper  of  thy  melody  ; 
Thou  art  '  yet  speaking '  on  the  heavenly 

hill, 
Each  word  a  note  of  joy, — and  shall  we 

not  '  be  still  ?' 


FOR  NEW  YEARS  DAY,  1874. 
'From  glory  to  glory.'— 2  COR.  iii.  18. 

'  FROM  glory  unto  glory  I'  Be  this  our 
joyous  song, 

As  on  the  King's  own  highway  we  bravely 
march  along  ! 

'  From  glory  unto  glory  !'  O  word  of 
stirring  cheer, 

As  dawns  the  solemn  brightness  of  an- 
other glad  New  Year. 

Our  own   beloved    Master    'hath   many 

things  to  say  ;' 
Look  forward  to  His  teaching,   unfolding 

day  by  day  ; 
To  whispers  of  His  Spirit,   while  resting 

at  His  feet, 
To   glowing  revelation,   to  insight    clear 

and  sweet 

'  From  glory  unto  glory  !'  Our  faith  hath 
seen  the  King, 

We  own  His  matchless  beauty,  as  ador- 
ingly we  sing  : 

But  He  hath  more  to  show  us  !  O  thought 
of  untold  bliss ! 

And  we  press  on  exultingly  in  certain  hope 
to  this  : — 

To  marvellous  outpourings  of  His  '  treas- 
ures new  and  old,' 

To  largess  of  His  bounty,  paid  in  the 
King's  own  gold, 

To  glorious  expansion  of  His  mysteries 
of  grace, 

To  radiant  unveilings  of  the  brightness  of 
His  face. 

*  From   glory  unto  glory  !'     What  great 

things  He  hath  done, 
What  wonders  He  hath  shown  us,   what 

triumphs  He  hath  won  ! 


CHRIST   IS   COME  TO    BE   MY    FRIEND 
LEADING,    LOVING,    TO   THE    END  ; 
CHRIST    IS   COME   TO    BE    MY    KING, 
ORDERING,    RULING,    EVERYTHING  ; 
CHRIST    IS    COME  !     ENOUGH    FOR    ME, 
LONELY   THOUGH   THE   PATHWAY    BE. 


Page  168. 


FOR  NEW  YEAR'S  DAY,  1874. 


273 


We  marvel  at  the  records  of  the  blessings 

of  the  year ! 
But  sweeter  than  the  Christmas  bells  rings 

out  His  promise  clear — 


That  'greater  things,'  far  greater,  our 
longing  eyes  shall  see  ! 

We  can  but  wait  and  wonder  what '  greater 
things  '  shall  be  ! 

But  glorious  fulfilments  rejoicingly  we 
claim, 

While  pleading  in  the  power  of  the  All- 
prevailing  Name. 

'  From  glory  unto  glory  !'     What  mighty 

blessings  crown 
The  lives  for  which  our  Lord  hath  laid 

His  own  so  freely  down  ! 
•  Omnipotence  to  keep  us,  Omniscience  to 

guide, 
Jehovah's   Triune  Presence  within  us  to 

abide  1 


The  fulness  of  His  blessing  encompasseth 
our  way  ; 

The  fulness  of  His  promises  crowns  every 
brightening  day  ; 

The  fulness  of  His  glory  is  beaming  from 
above, 

While  more  and  more  we  realize  the  ful- 
ness of  His  love. 


'  From   glory   unto   glory  !'     Without   a 

shade  of  care, 
Because  the  Lord  who  loves  us  will  every 

burden  bear  ; 
Because    we  trust  Him  fully,  and  know 

that  He  will  guide, 
And  know   that  He  will  keep  us  at  His 

beloved  side. 
18 


From    glory    unto    glory !'       Though 

tribulation  fall, 
It  cannot  touch  our  treasure,  when  Christ 

is  all  in  all  ! 
Whatever   lies  before   us,    there  can  be 

naught  to  fear, 
For  what  are  pain  and  sorrow  when  Jesus 

Christ  is  near  ? 


'  From  glory  unto  glory  !'     O  marvels  of 

the  word  ! 
'  With  open  face  beholding  the  glory  of 

the  Lord/ 
We,  even  we  (O  wondrous  grace  !)   'are 

changed  into  the  same,' 
The  image  of  our  Saviour,  to  glorify  His 

Name. 


Abiding  in  His  presence,  and  walking  in 

the  light, 
And  seeking  to  '  do  always  what  is  pleasing 

in  His  sight,' 
We  look  to  Him  to  keep  us  '  all  glorious 

within/ 
Because   'the  blood   of  Jesus  Christ  if 

cleansing  from  all  sin. ' 


The   things   behind  forgetting,    we   only 

gaze  before, 
'  From  glory  unto  glory, '  that  '  shineth 

more  and  more,' 
Because  our  Lord  hath  said  it,  that  such 

shall  be  our  way 
(O  splendor  of  the  promise  !)   *  unto  the 

perfect  day.' 

*  From  glory  unto  glory  !'  Our  fellow- 
travellers  still 

Are  gathering  on  the  journey  !  the  bright 
electric  thrill 


274 


UNDER   THE   SURFACE. 


Of  quick  instinctive  union,  more  frequent 

and  more  sweet, 

Shall  swiftly  pass  from  heart  to  heart  in 
true  and  tender  beat. 

And   closer  yet,  and   closer   the  golden 

bonds  shall  be, 
Enlinking  all  who  love  our  Lord  in  pure 

sincerity ; 
And   wider  yet,     and    wider    shall    the 

circling  glory  glow, 
As  more  and  more  are  taught  of  God  that 

mighty  love  to  know. 

O  ye  who  seek  the  Saviour,  look  up  in 

faith  and  love, 
Come  up  into  the  sunshine,  so  bright  and 

warm  above  ! 
No  longer  tread  the  valley,  but  clinging 

to  His  hand, 
Ascend    the    shining   summits  and  view 

the  glorious  land. 

Our  harp-notes    should  be  sweeter,    our 

trumpet-tones  more  clear, 
Our  anthems  ring  so  grandly,  that  all  the 

world  must  hear ! 
Oh,  royal  be  our  music,  for    who    hath 

cause  to  sing 
Like  the  chorus  of  redeemed  ones,  the 

Children  of  the  King  1 

Oh,  let  our  adoration  for  all  that  He  hath 

done 
Peal  out  beyond  the  stars  of  God,  while 

voice  and  life  are  one  ! 
And   let  our   consecration  be  real,    and 

deep,  and  true  ; 
Oh,  even  now  our  hearts  shall  bow,  and 

joyful  vows  renew  ! — 


'  In  full  and  glad  surrender,  we  give  our- 
selves to  Thee, 

Thine  utterly,  and  only,  and  evermore  to  be! 

O  Son  of  God,  who  lovest  us,  we  will  be 
Thine  alone, 

And  all  we  are,  and  all  we  have,  shall 
henceforth  be  Thine  own  !  ' 

Now,  onward,  ever  onward,  from  '  strength 
to  strength '  we  go, 

While  '  grace  for  grace  '  abundantly  shal  1 
from  His  fulness  flow, 

To  glory's  full  fruition,  from  glory's  fore- 
taste here, 

Until  His  Very  Presence  crown  our  hap- 
piest New  Year ! 


FINIS.1 

ANOTHER  little  volume,  filled  with  varied 
verse  and  song, 

Should  wake  another  note  of  praise,  un- 
heard, but  deep  and  strong  ; 

For  He  who  knows  my  truest  need,  and 
leads  me  day  by  day, 

Has  given  the  music  that  hath  been  such 
solace  on  my  way. 

I  look  up  to  my  Father,  and  know  that  I 

am  heard, 
And  ask  Him  for  the  glowing  thought, 

and  for  the  fitting  word  : 
I  look  up  to   my  Father,  for  I  cannot 

write  alone, 
Tis  sweeter  far  to  seek  His  strength  than 

lean  upon  my  own. 

And  so  the  closing  verses  of  my  new- 
filled  book  shall  be 

A  note  of  praise,  dear  Father,  sung  only 

unto  Thee, — 
1  Written  on  the  last  leaf  of  a  MS.  volume. 


SET   APART. 


2/5 


To  Thee  who  hast  so  helped  me,  to  Thee 

who  hast  so  blessed, 
The  only  Friend  who  knows  my  heart, 

the  nearest  and  the  best. 

I  bless  Thee,  gracious  Father,  who  hast 
moulded  praise  from  pain, 

And  turned  a  wail  of  mourning  to  a 
trustful,  calm  refrain, 

To  many  a  sorrow  giving  me  an  after- 
ward of  song, 


And  wafting  it  to  other  hearts  in  comfort 
true  and  strong. 

I  bless  Thee,  gracious  Father,  for  Thy 
pleasant  gift  to  me, 

And  earnestly  I  ask  Thee,  that  it  may 
always  be 

In  perfect  consecration  laid  at  Thy  glo- 
rious feet, 

Touched  with  Thine  altar-fire,  and  made 
an  offering  pure  and  sweet 


LOYAL    RESPONSES. 


CONSECRATION  HYMN. 

*  Here  we  offer  and  present  unto  Thee,  O  Lord, 
ourselves,  our  souls  and  bodies,  to  be  a  reasona- 
ble, holy,  and  living  sacrifice  unto  Thee.' 

TAKE  my  life,  and  let  it  be 
Consecrated,  Lord,  to  Thee. 

Take  my  moments  and  my  days  ; 
Let  them  flow  in  ceaseless  praise. 

Take  my  hands,  and  let  them  move 
At  the  impulse  of  Thy  love. 

Take  my  feet,  and  let  them  be 
Swift  and  '  beautiful '  for  Thee. 

Take  my  voice,  and  let  me  sing 
Always,  only,  for  my  King. 

Take  my  lips,  and  let  them  be 
Filled  with  messages  from  Thee. 

Take  my  silver  and  my  gold  ; 
Not  a  mite  would  I  withhold. 

Take  my  intellect,  and  use 
Every  power  as  Thou  shalt  choose. 


Take  my  will,  and  make  it  Thine  ; 
It  shall  be  no  longer  mine. 

Take  my  heart,  it  is  Thine  own  ; 
It  shall  be  Thy  royal  throne. 

Take  my  love  ;  my  Lord,  I  pour 
At  Thy  feet  its  treasure-store. 

Take  myself,  and  I  will  be 
Ever,  only,  ALL  for  Thee. 


SET  APART. 

'  Know  that  the  Lord  hath  set  apart  him  that  is 
godly  for  Himself.'— Ps.  iv.  3. 


SET  apart  for  Jesus  ! 

Is  not  this  enough, 
Though  the  desert  prospect 

Open  wild  and  rough  ? 
Set  apart  for  His  delight, 

Chosen  for  His  holy  pleasure, 
Sealed  to  be  His  special  treasure  ! 
Could    we   choose  a   nobler  joy? — and 
would  we  if  we  might  ? 


276 


LOYAL   RESPONSES. 


II. 

Set  apart  to  serve  Him, 

Minister  of  light, 
Standing  in  His  presence, 

Ready  day  or  night ! 
Chosen  for  His  service  blest, 

He  would  have  us  always  willing 
Like  the  angel-hosts,  fulfilling 
Swiftly  and   rejoicingly,   each  recognized 
behest 

in. 

Set  apart  to  praise  Him, 

Set  apart  for  this  ! 
Have  the  blessed  angels 

Any  .truer  bliss  ? 

Soft  the  prelude,  though  so  clear  ; 
Isolated  tones  are  trembling ; 
But  the  chosen  choir,  assembling, 
Soon  shall  sing  together,  while  the  uni- 
verse shall  hear. 

IV. 

Set  apart  to  love  Him, 

And  His  love  to  know  ! 
Not  to  waste  affection 
On  a  passing  show. 
Called  to  give  Him  life  and  heart, 
Called  to  pour  the  hidden  treasure, 
That  none  other  claims  to  measure, 
Into  His  beloved  hand  !  thrice-blessed  'se 
apart !' 

v. 

Set  apart  for  ever 

For  Himself  alcne  ! 
Now  we  see  our  calling 

Gloriously  shown  ! 
Owning,  with  no  secret  dread, 
This  our  holy  separation, 


Now  the  crown  of  consecration 
Of  the  Lord  our  God  shall  rest  upon  our 
willing  head  !  l 


THE  SECRET  OF  A  HAPPY  DAY. 

The  secret  of  the  Lord  is  with  them  that  fear 
Him.' — Ps.  xxv.  14. 


JUST  to  let  thy  Father  do 

What  He  will  ; 
Just  to  know  that  He  is  true, 

And  be  still. 
Just  to  follow  hour  oy  hour 

As  He  leadeth  ; 
Just  to  draw  the  moment's  power 

As  it  needeth. 

Just  to  trust  Him,  this  is  all ! 
Then  the  day  will  surely  be 
Peaceful,  whatsoe'er  befall, 

Bright  and  blessed,  calm  and  free. 

n. 

Just  to  let  Him  speak  to  thee 

Through  His  word, 
Watching  that  His  voice  may  be 

Clearly  heard. 
Just  to  tell  Him  everything 

As  it  rises, 
And  at  once  to  Him  to  bring 

All  surprises. 
Just  to  listen,  and  to  stay 

Where  you  cannot  miss  His  voice. 
This  is  all  !  and  thus  to-day, 
Communing,  you  shall  rejoice. 

in. 

Just  to  ask  Him  what  to  do 

All  the  day, 
And  to  make  you  quick  and  true 

To  obey. 


1  Num.  vi.  7. 


THE    UNFAILING   ONE. 


2/7 


Just  to  know  the  needed  grace 

He  bestoweth, 
Every  bar  of  time  and  place 

Overfloweth. 
Just  to  take  thy  orders  straight 

From  the  Master's  own  command  ! 
Blessed  day  !  when  thus  we  wait 
Always  at  our  Sovereign's  hand. 

IV. 

Just  to  recollect  His  love 

Always  true  ; 
Always  shining  from  above, 

Always  new. 
Just  to  recognize  its  light 

All-enfolding  ; 
Just  to  claim  its  present  might, 

All-upholding. 
Just  to  know  it  as  thine  own, 

That  no  power  can  take  away. 
Is  not  this  enough  alone 
For  the  gladness  of  the  day  ? 

v. 

Just  to  trust,  and  yet  to  ask 

Guidance  still ; 
Take  the  training,  or  the  task, 

As  He  will. 
Just  to  take  the  loss  or  gain, 

As  He  sends  it  ; 
Just  to  take  the  joy  or  pain, 

As  He  lends  it. 
He  who  formed  thee  for  His  praise 

Will  not  miss  the  gracious  aim  ; 
So  to-day  and  all  thy  days 

Shall  be  moulded  for  the  same. 

VI, 

Just  to  leave  in  His  dear  hand 

Little  things, 
All  we  cannot  understand, 

All  that  stings  ! 


Just  to  let  Him  take  the  care 

Sorely  pressing, 
Finding  all  we  let  Him  bear 

Changed  to  blessing. 
This  is  all  !  and  yet  the  way 

Marked  by  Him  who  loves  thee  best ! 
Secret  of  a  happy  day, 

Secret  of  His  promised  rest 


THE  UNFAILING  ONE. 

«He  faileth  not.'— ZEPH.  iii.  5. 

I. 

HE  who  hath  led  will  lead 

All  through  the  wilderness  ; 
He  who  hath  fed  will  feed  ; 

He  who  hath  blessed  will  bless ; 
He  who  hath  heard  thy  cry, 
Will  never  close  His  ear  ; 
He  who  hath  marked  thy  faintest  sigh, 

Will  not  forget  thy  tear. 
He  loveth  always,  faileth  never  ; 
So  rest  on  Him,  to-day,  for  ever  ! 

n. 
He  who  hath  made  thee  whole 

Will  heal  thee  day  by  day  ; 
He  who  hath  spoken  to  thy  soul 

Hath  many  things  to  say. 
He  who  hath  gently  taught 

Yet  more  will  make  ihee  know  ; 
He  who  so  wondrously  hath  wrought 

Yet  greater  things  will  show. 
He  loveth  always,  faileth  never  ; 
So  rest  on  Him,  to-day,  forever  ! 

in. 

He  who  hath  made  thee  nigh 
Will  draw  thee  nearer  still  ; 

He  who  hath  given  the  first  supply 
Will  satisfy  and  fill. 


LOYAL   RESPONSES. 


He  who  hath  given  thee  grace 

Yet  more  and  more  will  send  ; 
He  who  hath  set  thee  in  the  race 

Will  speed  thee  to  the  end. 
He  loveth  always,  faileth  never  ; 
So  rest  on  Him,  to-day,  forever  ! 

IV. 

He  who  hath  won  thy  heart 

Will  keep  it  true  and  free  ; 
He  who  hath  shown  thee  what  thou  art 

Will  show  Himself  to  thee. 
He  who  hath  bid  thee  live, 

And  made  thy  life  His  own, 
Life  more  abundantly  will  give, 

And  keep  it  His  alone. 
He  loveth  always,  faileth  never ; 
So  rest  on  Him,  to-day,  for  ever ! 

v. 

Then  trust  Him  for  to-day 

As  thine  unfailing  Friend, 
And  let  Him  lead  thee  all  the  way, 

Who  loveth  to  the  end. 
And  let  the  morrow  rest 

In  His  beloved  hand  ; 
His  good  is  better  than  our  best, 

As  we  shall  understand, — 
If,  trusting  Him  who  faileth  never, 
We  rest  on  Him,  to-day,  for  ever  ! 


ON  THE  LORD'S  SIDE. 

'  Thine  are  we,  David,  and  on  thy   side,   thou 
son  of  Jesse.' — i  CHRON.  xii.  18. 


WHO  is  on  the  Lord's  side  ? 

Who  will  serve  the  King  ? 
Who  will  be  His  helpers, 

Other  lives  to  bring  ? 


Who  will  leave  the  world's  side  ? 

Who  will  face  the  foe? 
Who  is  on  the  Lord's  side  ? 

Who  for  Him  will  go  ? 
Response.  By  Thy  call  of  mercy, 
By  Thy  grace  divine, 
We  are  on  the  the  Lord's  side  ; 
Saviour,  we  are  Thine. 

n. 

Not  for  weight  of  glory, 

Not  for  crown  and  palm, 
Enter  we  the  army, 

Raise  the  warrior-psalm  ; 
But  for  Love  that  claimeth 

Lives  for  whom  He  died  : 
He  whom  Jesus  nameth 
Must  be  on  His  side. 
Response.  By  Thy  love  constraining, 

By  Thy  grace  divine, 
We  are  on  the  Lord's  side  ; 
Saviour,  we  are  Thine. 

in. 
Jesus,  Thou  hast  bought  us, 

Not  with  gold  or  gem, 
But  with  Thine  own  life-blood, 

For  Thy  diadem. 
With  Thy  blessing  filling 

Each  who  comes  to  Thee, 
Thou  hast  made  us  willing, 
Thou  hast  made  us  free. 
Response.  By  Thy  grand  redemption, 

By  Thy  grace  divine, 

We  are  on  the  Lord's  side  ; 

Saviour,  we  are  Thine. 

IV. 

Fierce  may  be  the  conflict, 

Strong  may  be  the  foe, 
But  the  King's  own  army 

None  can  overthrow. 


TRUE-HEARTED,    WHOLE-HEARTED. 


2/9 


Round  His  standard  ranging, 

Victory  is  secure, 
For  His  truth  unchanging 
Makes  the  triumph  sure. 
Response.  Joyfully  enlisting 

By  Thy  grace  divine, 

We  are  on  the  Lord's  side  ; 

Saviour,  we  are  Thine. 

v. 

Chosen  to  be  soldiers 
In  an  alien  land  ; 
'  Chosen,  called,  and  faithful, ' 

For  our  Captain's  band  ; 
In  the  service  royal 

Let  us  not  grow  cold  • 
Let  us  be  right  loyal, 

Noble,  true,  and  bold. 
Response.   Master,  Thou  wilt  keep  us, 

By  Thy  grace  divine, 
Always  on  the  Lord's  side, 
Saviour,  always  Thine  ! 


TR  UE-HEA  R  TED,     WHOLE- 
HEARTED. 
r. 

TRUE-HEARTED,     whole-hearted,     faithful 

and  loyal, 
King   of  our  lives,   by   Thy  grace   we 

will  be  ! 

Under  thy  standard,  exalted  and  royal, 
Strong   in  thy  strength  we  will   battle 
for  Thee ! 

ii. 
True-hearted,     whole-hearted  !       Fullest 

allegiance 
Yielding   henceforth   to   our    glorious 

King; 

Valiant  endeavor  and  loving  obedience 
Freely  and  joyously  now  would  we  bring. 


in. 

True-hearted  !     Saviour,    Them   knowest 

our  story  ; 
Weak  are  the  hearts  that  we  lay  at   I'hy 

feet. 

Sinful  and  treacherous!  yet,  for  Thy  glory, 
Heal  them,  and  cleanse  them  from  sin 
and  deceit. 

IV. 

Whole-hearted  !     Saviour,    belovdd     and 

glorious, 
Take  Thy  great  power,  and  reign  Thou 

alone, 

Over  our  wills  and  affections   victorious, 
Freely  surrendered,  and  wholly  Thine 
own. 

v. 

/fa^-hearted,  /tf/sr-hearted  !      Heed   we 

the  warning  ! 

Cnly  the  whole  can  be  perfectly  true  ; 
Bring  the  whole  offering,  all  timid  thought 

scorning, 
True-hearted  only  if  whole-hearted  too. 

VI. 

Half-hearted  !  Saviour,  shall  aught  be 
withholden, 

Giving  Thee  part  who  hast  given  us  all  ? 
Blessings  outpouring,  and  promises  golden 

Pledging,  with  never  reserve  or  recall. 

VII. 

Half-hearted  !      Master,   shall   any    who 

know  Thee 
Grudge  Thee  their  lives,  who  h'ast  laid 

down  Thine  own  ? 
Sfay  ;  we  would  offer  the  hearts  that  we 

owe  Thee, — 
Live  for  Thy  love  and  Thy  glory  alone. 


280 


LOYAL   RESPONSES. 


VIII. 

Sisters,  dear  sisters,  the  call  is  resounding, 

Will  ye  not  echo  the  silver  refrain, 
Mighty     and     sweet,     and   in    gladness 

abounding, — 

'  True-hearted,    whole-hearted  !'    ring- 
ing again  ? 

IX. 

Jesus  is  with  us,  His  rest  is  before  us, 

Brightly  His  standard  is  waving  above. 
Brothers,    dear    brothers,     in    gathering 

chorus, 

Peal  out  the  watchword  of  courage  and 
love  ! 


Peal   out  the  watchword,  and   silence   it 

never, 

Song  of  our  spirits,  rejoicing  and  free ! 
'True-hearted,   whole-hearted,   now  and 

for  ever, 

King  of  our  lives,  by  Thy  grace  we  will 
be!' 


'  BY  THY  CROSS  AND  PA  SSION. ' 

'  He  hath  given  us  rest  by  His  sorrow,   and 
life  by  His  death.'— JOHN  BUNYAN. 

I. 

WHAT  hast  Thou  done  for  me,  O  mighty 
Friend, 

Who  lovest  to  the  end  ! 
Reveal  Thyself,  that  I  may  now  behold 

Thy  love  unknown,  untold, 
Bearing  the  curse,  and  made  a  curse  for 

me, 

That  blessed  and  made  a  blessing  I  might 
be. 


II. 

Oh,  Thou  wast  crowned  with  thorns,  that 
I  might  wear 

A  crown  of  glory  fair  ; 
'  Exceeding  sorrowful, '  that  I  might  be 

Exceeding  glad  in  Thee  ; 
'  Rejected  and    despised, '   that    I  might 

stand 

Accepted    and  complete    on    Thy  right 
hand. 

in. 

Wounded  for  my  transgression,    stricken 
sore, 

That  I  might  (  sin  no  more  ; ' 
Weak,  that  I  might  be  always  strong  in 
Thee  ; 

Bound,  that  I  might  be  free  , 
Acquaint  with  grief,    that  I  might    only 

know 
Fulness  of  joy  in  everlasting  flow. 

IV. 

Thine  was  the  chastisement,  with  no  re- 
lease, 

That  mine  might  be  the  peace  ; 
The  bruising  and  the  cruel  stripes  were 
Thine, 

That  healing  might  be  mine  ; 
Thine  was  the  sentence  and  the  condem- 
nation, 
Mine  the  acquittal  and  the  foil  salvation. 

v. 

For    Thee    revilings,     and    a    mocking 
throng, 

For  me  the  angel-song  ; 
For  Thee  the  frown,  the  hiding  of  God's 
face, 

For  me  His  smile  of  grace  ; 
Sorrows  of  hell   and   bitterest   death   for 

Thee, 
And  heaven  and  everlasting  life  for  me. 


THE   OPENED   FOUNTAIN. 


281 


VI. 

Thy  cross  and  passion,  and  Thy  precious 
death, 

While  I  have  mortal  breath, 
Shall  be  my  spring  of  love  and  work  and 
praise, 

The  life  of  all  my  days  ; 
Till  all  this  mystery  of  love  supreme 
Be  solved  in  glory — glory's  endless  theme. 


THE  OPENED  FOUNTAIN. 

*  A  fountain  opened  for  sin  and  uncleanness. 
.   .    .  Wounded  "in  the  house  of  My  friends.  — 
ZECH.  xiii.  i,  6. 

I. 

AND  I  have  wounded  Thee — oh,  wounded 

Thee  !-— 
Wounded   the   dear,  dear    Hand   that 

holds  me  fast  ! 
Oh,   to  recall   the   word  !     That   cannot 

be  ! 

Oh,    to  unthink  the  thought  that  out 
of  reach  hath  passed  1 

ii. 

Sorrow  and  bitter  grief  replace  my  bliss  ; 

I  could  not  wish  that  any  joy  should  be  ; 

There  is  no  room  for  any   thought  but 

this, 

That   I   have    sinned — have  sinned — 
have  wounded  Thee  ! 


in. 

How   could  I   grieve   Thee  so !      Thou 

couldst  have  kept ; 
My   fall    was  not   the   failure  of  Thy 

word. 
Thy    promise    hath   no    flaw,    no    dire 

'  except, ' 

To  neutralize  the  grace  so  royally  con- 
ferred. 


IV. 


Oh  the  exceeding  sinfulness  of  sia  ! 

Tenfold  exceeding  in  the  love-lit  light 
Of  Thy  sufficient  grace,  without,  within, 

Enough  for  every  need,  in  never-con- 
quered might ! 

v. 

With  all  the   shame,  with  all  the   keen 

distress, 
Quick,    'waiting  not/   I  flee  to  Thee 

again  ; 

Close  to  the  wound,  belovdd  Lord,  I  press, 
That  Thine  own  precious  blood  may  over- 
flow the  stain. 


VI. 


O  precious   blood  !    Lord,  let  it  rest  on 

me! 

I  ask  not  only  pardon  from  my  King, 
But  cleansing  from  my  Priest.     I  come 

to  Thee 

Just  as  I  came  at  first, — a  sinful,  help- 
less thing. 

VII. 

Oh  cleanse  me  now  '     My  Lord,  I  can- 
not stay 

For  evening  shadows  and  a  silent  hour : 
Now   I  have  sinned,  and  now,    with  no 

delay, 
I  claim  Thy  promise  and  is  total  power. 

VIII. 

O  Saviour,  bid  me  '  go  and  sin  no  more, 
And  keep  me  always  'neath  the  mighty 

flow 

Of  Thy  perpetual  fountain  ;  I  implore 
That   Thy  perpetual  cleansing  I  may 
fully  know. 


282 


LOYAL   RESPONSES. 


THE  PRECIOUS  BLOOD  OF 
JESUS. 

i. 

PRECIOUS,  precious  blood  of  Jesus, 

Shed  on  Calvary  ; 
Shed  for  rebels,  shed  for  sinners, 

Shed  for  me. 

ii. 

Precious  blood,  that  hath  redeemed  us ! 

All  the  price  is  paid  : 
Perfect  pardon  now  is  offered, 

Peace  is  made. 

in. 
Precious,  precious  blood  of  Jesus, 

Let  it  make  thee  whole  ; 
Let  it  flow  in  mighty  cleansing 

O'er  thy  soul. 

IV. 

Though  thy  sins  are  red  like  crimson, 

Deep  in  scarlet  glow, 
Jesu's  precious  blood  can  make  them 

White  as  snow. 

v. 

Now  the  holiest  with  boldness 

We  may  enter  in, 
For  the  open  fountain  cleanseth 
From  all  sin. 

VI. 

Precious  blood  !  by  this  we  conquer 

In  the  fiercest  fight, 
Sin  and  Satan  overcoming 

By  its  might. 

VII. 

Precious,  precious  blood  of  Jesus, 

Ever  flowing  free ! 
O  believe  it,  O  receive  it, 

'Tis  for  thee ! 


VIII. 

Precious  blood,  whose  full  atonement 
Makes  us  nigh  to  God ! 

Precious  blood,  our  song  of  glory, 
Praise  and  laud  ! 


I  REMEMBER  THEE. 

'  Thus  saith  the  Lord,  I  remember  thee,  the 
kindness  of  thy  youth,  the  lore  of  thine  espou- 
sals.'—JER.  ii.  2. 

I. 

MY  Lord,  dost  Thou  indeed  remember 

me, 

Just  me,  the  least  and  last  ? 
With  all  the  names  of  Thy  redeemed, 
And  all  Thy  angels,  has  it  seemed 
As  though  my  name  might  perhaps  be 

overpassed  ; 
Yet  here    I  find  Thy  word  of  tenderest 

grace, 

True  for  this  moment,  perfect  for  my  case  : 
'  Thus  saith  Jehovah,  I  remember  thee  ! ' 

ii. 

My  Lord,  dost  Thou  remember  this  of  me, 

The  kindness  of  my  youth  ? — 
The  tremulous  gleams  of  early  days, 
The  first  faint  thrills  of  love  and  praise, 
Vibrating  fitfully  ?     Not  much,  in  truth, 
Can  I  bring  back  at  memory's   wondering 

call  : 
Yet  Thou,  my  faithful  Lord,  rememberest 

all,— 
'  Thus  saith  Jehovah,  I  remember  thee  !' 

in. 

My  Lord,  dost  Thou  remember  this  of  me, 

My  love,  so  poor,  so  cold  ? 
Oh,  if  I  had  but  loved  Thee  more  ! 
Yet  Thou  hast  pardoned.     Let  me  pour 


KNOWING. 


283 


My  life's  best  wine  for   Thee,  my  heart's 

best  gold 

(Worthless,  yet  all  I  have),  for  very  shame 
That  Thou  shouldst  tell   me,  calling   me 

by  name, — 
'  Thus  saith  Jehovah,  I  remember  thee  !' 

IV. 

My  Lord,  dost  Thou  remember  this  of  me, 

The  day  of  Thine  own  power  ? 
The  love  of  mine  espousals  sweet, 
The  laying  wholly  at  Thy  feet 
Of  heart  and  life,    in    that   glad,    willing 

hour  ? 
That  love   was  Thine — I   gave  Thee  but 

Thine  own, 
And  yet  the  voice  falls  from  the  emerald 

throne, — 
'  Thus  saith  Jehovah,  I  remember  thee  !' 

v. 

My  Lord,  dost  Thou  remember  this  of 
me  ? 

Forgetting  every  fall, 
Forgetting  all  the  treacherous  days, 
Forgetting  all  the  wandering  ways, 
With  fulness  of  forgiveness  covering  all ; 
Casting  these  memories,  a  hideous  store, 
Into  the  crimson  sea,  for  evermore, 
And  only  saying,  '  I  remember  thee  !' 

VI. 

My  Lord,  art  Thou  indeed  remembering 
me? 

Then  let  me  not  forget ! 
Oh,  be  Thy  kindness  all  the  way, 
Thy  everlasting  love  to-day, 
In  sweet  perpetual  remembrance  set 
Before  my   view,    to   fill   my   marvelling 

gaze, 

And  stir  my  love,  and  lift  my  life  to  praise, 
Because  Thou  sayest,  '  I  remember  thee  !' 


KNOWING. 

i. 

I  KNOW  the  crimson  stain  of  sin, 

Defiling  all  without,  within  ; 

But  now  rejoicingly  I  know 

That  He  has  washed  me  white  as  snow. 

I  praise  Him  for  the  cleansing  tide, 

Because  I  know  that  Jesus  died. 

n. 

I  know  the  helpless,  hopeless  plaint, 

'  The  whole  head   sick,  the  whole  heart 

faint ;' 

But  now  I  trust  His  touch  of  grace, 
That  meets  so  perfectly  my  case, 
So  tenderly,  so  truly  deals  ; 
Because  I  know  that  Jesus  heals. 

in. 

I  know  the  pang  of  forfeit  breath, 
When  life  in  sin  was  life  in  death : 
But  now  I  know  His  life  is  mine, 
And  nothing  shall  that  cord  untwine, 
Rejoicing  in  the  life  He  gives, 
Because  I  know  that  Jesus  lives. 

IV. 

I  know  how  anxious  thought  can  press, 
I  know  the  weight  of  carefulness  ; 
But  now  I  know  the  sweet  reward 
Of  casting  all  upon  my  Lord, 
No  longer  bearing  what  He  bears, 
Because  I  know  that  Jesus  cares. 

v. 

I  know  the  sorrow  that  is  known 
To  the  tear-burdened  heart  alone  ; 
But  now  I  know  its  full  relief 
Through    Him   who  was  acquaint  with 

grief, 

And  peace  through  every  trial  flows, 
Because  I  know  that  Jesus  knows. 


284 


LOYAL  RESPONSES. 


VI. 

I  know  the  gloom  amid  the  mirth, 
The  longing  for  the  love  of  earth  ; 
But  now  I  know  the  Love  that  fills, 
That  gladdens,  blesses,  crowns,  and  stills, 
That  nothing  mars  and  nothing  moves, — 
I  know,  I  know  that  Jesus  loves. 

VII. 

I  know  the  shrinking  and  the  fear, 
When  all  seems  wrong,  and  nothing  clear  ; 
But  now  I  gaze  upon  His  throne, 
And  faith  sees  all  His  foes  o'erthrown, 
And  I  can  wait  till  He  explains, 
Because  I  know  that  Jesus  reigns. 


TRUSTING  JESUS. 


I  AM  trusting  Thee,  Lord  Jesus, 

Trusting  only  Thee  ; 
Trusting  Thee  for  full  salvation, 
Great  and  free. 

ii. 

I  am  trusting  Thee  for  pardon  ; 

At  Thy  feet  I  bow, 
For  Thy  grace  and  tender  mercy, 
Trusting  now. 

in. 
I  am  trusting  Thee  for  cleansing 

In  the  crimson  flood  ; 
Trusting  Thee  to  make  me  holy 
By  Thy  blood. 

rv. 

I  am  trusting  Thee  to  guide  me  ; 

Thou  alone  shalt  lead  ! 
Every  day  and  hour  supplying 
All  my  need. 


v. 


I  am  trusting  Thee  for  power ; 

Thine  can  never  fail  ! 
Words  which  Thou  Thyself  shalt  give  me, 
Must  prevail. 


VI. 


I  am  trusting  Thee,  Lord  Jesus  : 

Never  let  me  fall  ! 
I  am  trusting  Thee  for  ever, 
And  for  all. 


LOOKING  UNTO  JESUS. 

i. 
LOOKING  unto  Jesus ! 

Battle-shout  of  faith. 
Shield  o'er  all  the  armor, 

Free  from  scar  or  scathe. 
Standard  of  salvation, 

In  our  hearts  unfurled, 
Let  its  elevation 

Overcome  the  world  ! 

ii. 

Look  away  to  Jesus, 

Look  away  from  all ; 
Then  we  need  not  stumble, 

Then  we  shall  not  fall. 
From  each  snare  that  lureth, 

Foe  or  phantom  grim, 
Safety  this  ensureth  : 

Look  away  to  Him. 

in. 

Looking  unto  Jesus, 
Wonderingly  we  trace 

Heights  of  power  and  glory, 
Depths  of  love  and  grace. 

Vistas  far  unfolding 
Ever  stretch  before, 


SHINING. 


2S5 


As  we  gaze,  beholding 
Ever  more  and  more. 

IV. 

Looking  up  to  Jesus, 

On  the  emerald  throne  ! 
Faith  shall  pierce  the  heavens 

Where  our  King  is  gone. 
Lord,  on  Thee  depending, 

Now,  continually, 
Heart  and  mind  ascending, 

Let  us  dwell  with  Thee. 


SHINING. 
i. 

ARE  you  shining  for  Jesus,  dear  one  ? 

You  have  given  your  heart  to  Him  ; 
But  is  the  light  strong  within  it, 

Or  is  it  but  pale  and  dim  ? 
Can  everybody  see  it,  — 

That  Jesus  is  all  to  you  ? 
That  your  love  to  Him  is  burning 

With  radiance  warm  and  true  ? 
Is  the  seal  upon  your  forehead, 

So  that  it  must  be  known 
That  you  are  'all  for  Jesus/ — 

That  your  heart  is  all  His  own  ? 

ii. 

Are  you  shining  for  Jesus,  dear  one  ? 

You  remember  the  first  sweet  ray, 
When  the  sun  arose  upon  you 

And  brought  the  gladsome  day  ; 
When  you  heard  the  gospel  message, 

And  Jesus  Himself  drew  near, 
And  helped  you  to  trust  Him  simply, 

And  took  away  your  fear ; 
When  the  darkness  and  the  shadows 

Fled  like  a  weary  night, 
And  you  felt  that  you  could  praise  Him, 

Ancf  everything  seemed  bright. 


in. 

Are  you  shining  for  Jesus,  dear  one, 

So  that  the  holy  light 
May  enter  the  hearts  of  others, 

And  make  them  glad  and  bright? 
Have  you  spoken  a  word  for  Jesus, 

And  told  to  some  around, 
Who  do  not  care  about  Him, 

What  a  Saviour  jv0«  have  found  ? 
Have  you  lifted  the  lamp  for  others, 

That  has  guided  your  own  glad  feet  ? 
Have  you  echoed  the  loving  message, 

That  seemed  to  you  so  sweet  ? 

iv. 

Are  you  shining  for  Jesus,  dear  one, — 

Shining  for  Him  all  day, 
Letting  the  light  burn  always 

Along  the  varied  way  ? 
Always, — when  those  beside  you 

Are  walking  in  the  dark  ? 
Always, — when  no  one  is  helping, 

Or  heeding  your  tiny  spark  ? 
Not  idly  letting  it  flicker 

In  every  passing  breeze 
Of  pleasure  or  temptation, 

Of  trouble  or  of  ease  ? 

v. 

Are  you  shining  for  Jesus,  dear  one, — 

Shining  just  everywhere, 
Not  only  in  easy  places, 

Not  only  just  here  or  there  ? 
Shining  in  happy  gatherings, 

Where  all  are  loved  and  known  ? 
Shining  where  all  are  strangers  ? 

Shining  when  quite  alone  ? 
Shining  at  home,  and  making 

True  sunshine  all  around  ? 
Shining  abroad,  and  faithful — 

Perhaps  among  faithless — found  ? 


286 


LOYAL   RESPONSES. 


VI. 

Are  you  shining  for  Jesus,  dear  one, 

Not  for  yourself  at  all  ? 
Not  because  dear  ones,  watching, 

Would  grieve  if  your  lamp  should  fall  ? 
Shining  because  you  are  walking 

In  the  Sun's  unclouded  rays, 
And  you  cannot  help  reflecting 

The  light  on  which  you  gaze  ? 
Shineth  because  it  shineth 

So  warm  and  bright  above, 
That  you  must  let  out  the  gladness, 

And  you  must  show  forth  the  love  ? 

VII. 

Are  you  shining  for  Jesus,  dear  one  ? 

Or  is  there  a  little  sigh 
That  the  lamp  His  love  had  lighted 

Does  not  burn  clear  and  high  ? 
Is  the  heavenly  crown  that  waits  you, 

Still,  still  without  a  star, 
Because  your  light  was  hidden, 

And  sent  no  rays  afar  ? 
Do  you  feel  you  have  not  loved  Him 

With  a  love  right  brave  and  loyal, 
But  have  faintly  fought  and  followed 

His  banner  bright  and  royal  ? 

VIII. 

Oh,  come  again  to  Jesus  ! 

Come  as  you  came  at  first, 
And  tell  Him  all  that  hinders, 

And  tell  Him  all  the  worst ; 
And  take  His  sweet  forgiveness 

As  you  took  it  once  before, 
And  hear  His  kind  voice  saying, 

'  Peace  !  go,  and  sin  no  more  1' 
Then  ask  for  grace  and  courage 

His  name  to  glorify, 
That  never  more  His  precious  light 

Your  dimness  may  deny. 


IX. 

Then  rise,  and,  '  watching  daily, 

Ask  Him  your  lamp  to  trim 
With  the  fresh  oil  He  giveth, 

That  it  may  not  burn  dim. 
Yes,  rise  and  shine  for  Jesus  ! 

Be  brave,  and  bright,  and  true 
To  the  true  and  loving  Saviour, 

Who  gave  Himself  for  you. 
Oh,  shine  for  Jesus,  dear  one, 

And  henceforth  be  your  way 
Bright  with  the  light  that  shineth 

Unto  the  perfect  day  ! 


GRO  WING. 
i. 

UNTO  him  that  hath,  Thou  givest 

Ever  '  more  abundantly/ 
Lord,  I  live  because  Thou  livest, 

Therefore  give  more  life  to  me  ; 
Therefore  speed  me  in  the  race  ; 
Therefore  let  me  grow  in  grace. 

ii 

Deepen  all  Thy  work,  O  Master, 
Strengthen  every  downward  root, 

Only  do  Thou  ripen  faster, 

More  and  more,  Thy  pleasant  fruit. 

Purge  me,  prune  me,  self  abase, 

Only  let  me  grow  in  grace. 

in. 

Jesus,  grace  for  grace  outpouring, 
Show  me  ever  greater  things  ; 

Raise  me  higher,  sunward  soaring, 
Mounting  as  on  eagle-wings. 

By  the  brightness  of  Thy  face, 

Jesus,  let  me  grow  in  grace. 


FILLING. 


287 


IV. 

Let  me  grow  by  sun  and  shower, 

Every  moment  water  me  ; 
Make  me  really  hour  by  hour 

More  and  more  conformed  to  Thee, 
That  Thy  loving  eye  may  trace, 
Day  by  day,  my  growth  in  grace. 

v. 

Let  me  then  be  always  growing, 
Never,  never  standing  still ; 

Listening,  learning,  better  knowing 
Thee  and  Thy  most  blessed  will. 

Till  I  reach  Thy  holy  place, 

Daily  let  me  grow  in  grace. 


RESTING. 

1  This  is  the  rest  wherewith  ye  may  cause  the 
weary  to  rest :  and  this  is  the  refreshing. — 
ISA.  xxviii.  12. 

I. 

RESTING  on  the  faithfulness  of  Christ  our 

Lord  ; 
Resting  on  the  fulness  of  His  own  sure 

word  ; 

Resting  on  His  power;  on  His  love  un- 
told ; 
Resting  on  His  covenant  secured  of  old. 

n. 

Resting  'neath  His  guiding  hand  for  un- 
tracked  days  ; 

Resting  'neath  His  shadow  from  the  noon- 
tide rays  ; 

Resting  at  the  eventide  beneath  His  wing, 

In  the  fair  pavilion  of  our  Saviour  King. 

in. 

Resting  in  the   fortress  while  the  foe  is 

nigh  ; 
Resting  in  the  life-boat  while  the  waves 

roll  high ; 


Resting  in  His  chariot  for  the  swift  glad 

race  ; 
Resting,  always  resting  in  His  boundless 

grace. 

v. 

Resting  in  the  pastures,  and  beneath  the 
Rock; 

Resting  by  the  waters  where  He  leads  His 
flock  ; 

Resting,  while  we  listen,  at  His  glorioin 
feet; 

Resting  in  His  very  arms ! — O  rest  com- 
plete 1 

v. 

Resting  and  believing,  let  us  onward 
press, 

Resting  in  Himself,  the  Lord  our  Right- 
eousness ; 

Resting  and  rejoicing,  let  His  saved  ones 
sing, 

Glory,  glory,  glory  be  to  Christ  our  King  I 


FILLING. 

'  Filled  with  all  the  fulness  of  God.'— 

ZECH.  iii.  19. 

I. 

HOLY  Father,  Thou  hast  spoken 

Words  beyond  our  grasp  of  thought,  — 

Words  of  grace  and  power  unbroken, 
With  mysterious  glory  fraught. 

n. 

Promise  and  command  combining, 
Doubt  to  chase  and  faith  to  lift ; 

Self-renouncing,  all  resigning, 
We  would  claim  this  mighty  gift. 


288 


LOYAL  RESPONSES. 


III. 


Take  us,  Lord,  oh,  take  us  truly, 
Mind  and  soul  and  heart  and  will  ; 

Empty  us  and  cleanse  us  throughly, 
Then  with  all  Thy  fulness  fill. 


IV. 


Lord,  we  ask  it,  hardly  knowing 
What  this  wondrous  gift  may  be 

But  fulfil  to  overflowing, — 
Thy  great  meaning  let  us  see. 


v. 


Make  us  in  Thy  royal  palace 
Vessels  worthy  for  the  King  ; 

From  Thy  fulness   fill  our  chalice, 
From  Thy  never-failing  spring. 


YI. 


Father,  by  this  blesse"d  filling, 
Dwell  Thyself  in  us  we  pray  ; 

We  are  waiting,  Thou  art  willing, 
Fill  us  with  Thyself  to-day  ! 


INCREASE  OUR  FAITH. 

'Lord,  increase  our  faith.' — LUKE  xvii.  5. 

I. 
INCREASE  our  faith,  beloved  Lord  ! 

For  Thou  alone  canst  give 
The  faith  that  takes  thee  at  Thy  word, 

The  faith  by  which  we  live. 

ii. 

Increase  our  faith  !     So  weak  are  we, 
That  we  both  may  and  must 

Commit  our  very  faith  to  Thee, 
Entrust  to  Thee  our  trust 

in. 

Increase  our  faith  !  for  there  is  yet 
Much  land  to  be  possessed  ; 


And  by  no  other  strength  we  get 
Our  heritage  of  rest. 

IV. 

Increase  our  faith  !     On  this  broad  shield 

'  All'  fiery  darts  be  caught ; 
We  must  be  victors  in  the  field 

Where  Thou  for  us  hast  fought. 

v. 

Increase  our  faith,  that  we  may  claim 

Each  starry  promise  sure, 
And  always  triumph  in  Thy  name, 

And  to  the  end  endure. 

VI. 

Increase  our  faith,  O  Lord,  we  pray, 

That  we  may  not  depart 
From  Thy  commands,  but  all  obey 

With  free  and  loyal  heart. 

VII. 

Increase  our  faith — increase  it  still — 
From  heavenward  hour  to  hour, 

And  in  us  gloriously  '  fulfil 
The  work  of  faith  with  power. 

VIII. 

Increase  our  faith,  that  never  dim 

Or  trembling  it  may  be, 
Crowned  with  the  '  perfect  peace '  of  him 

'  Whose  mind  is  stayed  on  Thee. ' 

IX. 

Increase  our  faith,  for  Thou  hast  prayed 

That  it  should  never  fail  ; 
Our  stedfast  anchorage  is  made 

With  Thee,  within  the  veil. 


Increase  our  faith,  that  unto  Thee 
More  fruit  may  still  abound  ; 

That  it  may  grow  '  exceedingly/ 
And  to  Thy  praise  be  found. 


HE  IS  THY   LIFE. 


289 


XI. 


Increase  our  faith,  O  Saviour  dear, 
By  Thy  sweet  sovereign  grace, 

Till,  changing  faith  for  vision  clear, 
We  seeThee  face  to  face  ! 


' NOBODY  KNOWS   BUT  JESUS, 
i. 

1  NOBODY  knows  but  Jesus  !' 

'Tis  only  the  old  refrain 
Of  a  quaint  pathetic  slave-song, 

But  it  comes  again  and  again. 

ii. 

I  only  heard  it  quoted, 
And  I  do  not  know  the  rest  ; 

But  the  music  of  the  message 
Was  wonderfully  blessed. 

in. 

For  it  fell  upon  my  spirit 
Like  sweetest  twilight  psalm, 

When  the  breezy  sunset  waters 
Die  into  starry  calm. 

IV. 

'  Nobody  knows  but  Jesus  !' 

Is  it  not  better  so, 
That  no  one  else  but  Jesus, 

My  own  dear  Lord,  should  know  ? 

v. 

When  the  sorrow  is  a  secret 

Between  my  Lord  and  me, 
I  learn  the  fuller  measure 

Of  His  quick  sympathy. 

VI. 

Whether  it  be  so  heavy, 

That  dear  ones  could  not  bear 

To  know  the  bitter  burden 

They  could  not  come  and  share  : 
19 


VII. 

Whether  it  be  so  tiny, 

That  others  could  not  see 
Why  it  should  be  a  trouble, 

And  seem  so  real  to  me  ; 

VIII. 

Either  and  both,  I  lay  them 

Down  at  my  Master's  feet, 
And  find  them  alone  with  Jesus, 

Mysteriously  sweet. 

IX. 

Sweet,  for  they  bring  me  closer 
To  the 'dearest,  truest  Friend  ; 

Sweet,  for  He  comes  the  nearer, 
As  'neath  the  cross  I  bend  ; 

x. 

Sweet,  for  they  are  the  channels 
Through  which  His  teachings  flow  ; 

Sweet,  for  by  these  dark  secrets 
His  heart  of  love  I  know. 

XI. 

1  Nobody  knows  but  Jesus  I' 

It  is  music  for  to-day, 
And  through  the  darkest  hours 

It  will  chime  along  the  way. 

XII. 

'  Nobody  knows  but  Jesus  !' 
My  Lord,  I  bless  Thee  now 

For  the  sacred  gift  of  sorrow 
That  no  one  knows  but  Thou. 


HE  IS  THY  LIFE, 
i. 

JESUS,  Thy  life  is  mine  ! 
Dwell  evermore  in  me  ; 

And  let  me  see 
That  nothing  can  untwine 

My  life  from  Thine. 


290 


LOYAL   RESPONSES. 


II. 

Thy  life  in  me  be  shown  ! 
Lord,  I  would  henceforth  seek 

To  think  and  speak 
Thy  thoughts,  Thy  words  alone, 

No  more  my  own. 

in. 

Thy  love,  Thy  joy,  Thy  peace, 
Continuously  impart 

Unto  my  heart ; 
Fresh  springs  that  never  cease, 

But  still  increase. 

IV. 

The  blest  reality 

Of  resurrection  power, 

Thy  Church's  dower, 
Life  more  abundantly, 

Lord,  give  to  me  1 

v. 

Thy  fullest  gift,  O  Lord, 
Now  at  Thy  feet  I  claim, 

Through  Thy  dear  name  ! 
And  touch  the  rapturous  chord 

Of  praise  forth  poured. 

VI. 

Jesus,  my  life  is  Thine, 
And  evermore  shall  be 

Hidden  in  Thee ! 
For  nothing  can  untwine 

Thy  life  from  mine. 


ENOUGH. 
i. 

I  AM  so  weak,  dear  Lord,  I  cannot  stand 
One  moment  without  Thee  ! 

But  oh  !  the  tenderness  of  Thine  enfold- 
ing, 

And  oh  !  the  faithfulness  of  Thine  uphold- 
ing, 


And  oh !  the  strength  of  Thy  right  hand  i 
That  strength  is  enough  for  me  ! 

n. 

I  am  so  needy,  Lord,  and  yet  I  know 
All  fulness  dwells  in  Thee  ; 

And  hour  by  hour  that  never-failing  treas- 
ure 

Supplies  and  fills,  in  overflowing  measure, 

My  least,  my  greatest  need  ;  and  so 
Thy  grace  is  enough  for  me  ! 

in. 

It  is  so  sweet  to  trust  Thy  word  alone  : 

I  do  not  ask  to  see 
The  unveiling  of  Thy   purpose,    or   the 

shining 

Of  future  light  on  mysteries  untwining  : 
Thy  promise-roll  is  all  my  own, — 

Thy  word  is  enough  for  me  ! 

IV. 

The  human  heart  asks  love  ;  but  now  I 

know 

That  my  heart  hath  from  Thee 
All  real  and  full,  and  marvellous  affection, 
So  near,  so  human  ;  yet  divine  perfection 
Thrills  gloriously  the  mighty  glow  ! 

Thy  love  is  enough  for  me  ! 

v. 

There  were  strange  soul-depths,  restless, 
vast,  and  broad, 
Unfathomed  as  the  sea  ; 

An  infinite  craving  for  some  infinite  still- 
ing ; 

But  now  Thy  perfect  love  is  perfect   fill- 
ing ! 

Lord  Jesus  Christ,  my  Lord,  my  God, 
Thou,  Thou  art  enough  for  me ! 


MY   MASTER. 


291 


ALL. 
I. 

GOD'S  reiterated  'ALL  !' 

O  wondrous  word  of  peace  and  power  ! 
Touching  with  its  tuneful  fall 

The  rising  of  each  hidden  hour, 
All  the  day. 

ii. 
Only  all  His  word  believe, 

All  peace  and  joy  your  heart  shall  fill, 
All  things  asked  ye  shall  receive  : 
This  is  Thy  Father's  word  and  will, 

For  to:day. 
in. 
'  All  I  have  is  thine/  saith  He. 

'  All  things  are  yours,'  He  saith  again  ; 
All  the  promises  for  thee 

Are  sealed  with  Jesus  Christ's  Amen, 
For  to-day. 

IV. 

He  shall  all  your  need  suppiy, 

And  He  will  make  all  grace  aoounc.  ; 
yl/ways  all  sufficiency 

In  Him  for  all  things  shall  be   found, 

For  to-day, 
v. 
All  His  work  He  shall  fulfil, 

All  the  good  pleasure  of  His  will, 
Keeping  thee  in  all  thy  ways, 

And  with  thee  always,  '  all  the  days/ 
And  to-day  ! 


ONLY. 

i. 
ONLY  a  mortal's  powers, 

Weak  at  their  fullest  strength  ; 
Only  a  few  swift-flashing  hours, 
Short  at  their  fullest  length. 


IL 


Only  a  page  for  the  eye,   - 
Only  a  word  for  the  ear, 

Only  a  smile,  and  by-and-by 
Only  a  quiet  tear. 


in. 


Only  one  heart  to  give, 
Only  one  voice  to  use  ; 

Only  one  little  life  to  live, 
And  only  one  to  lose. 


IV. 


Poor  is  my  best,  and  small : 
How  could  I  dare  divide  ? 

Surely  my  Lord  shall  have  it  all, 
He  shall  not  be  denied  ! 


v. 


All !  for  far  more  I  owe 
Than  all  I  have  to  bring  ; 

All !  for  my  Saviour  loves  me  so  1 
All  !  for  I  love  my  King  ! 

VI. 

All  !  for  it  is  His  own, 
He  gave  the  tiny  store  ; 

All !  for  it  must  be  His  alone  ; 
All  !  for  I  have  no  more. 

VII. 

All  !  for  the  last  and  least 

He  stoopeth  to  uplift  : 
The  altar  of  my  great  High  Priest 

Shall  sanctify  my  gift. 


MY  MASTER. 

'  I  love  my  master  ;  .  .  .  I  will  not  go  out  free. 
And  he  shall  serve  him  for  ever.' — Ex.  xxi.  5,  6. 


I  LOVE,  I  love  my  Master, 
I  will  not  go  out  free, 

For  He  is  my  Redeemer, 
He  paid  the  price  for  me. 


LOYAL   RESPONSES. 


II. 


I  would  not  leave  His  service, 
It  is  so  sweet  and  blest  ; 

And  in  the  weariest  moments 
He  gives  the  truest  rest 


in. 


I  would  not  halve  my  service, 
His  only  it  must  be, — 

His  only,  who  so  loved  me 
And  gave  Himself  for  me. 


IV. 


My  Master  shed  His  life-blood 

My  vassal  life  to  win, 
And  save  me  from  the  bondage 

Of  tyrant  self  and  sin. 


v. 


He  chose  me  for  His  service, 
And  gave  me  power  to  choose 

That  blessed,  *  perfect  freedom  * 
Which  I  shall  never  lose  : 


VI. 


For  He  hath  met  my  longing 
With  word  of  golden  tone, 

That  I  shall  serve  for  ever 
Himself,  Himself  alone. 


VII. 


'  Shall  serve  Him  '  hour  by  hour, 
For  He  will  show  me  how  ; 

My  Master  is  fulfilling 
His  promise  even  now  ! 


VIII. 


'  Shall  serve  Him/  and  '  for  ever  ; ' 
O  hope  most  sure,  most  fair  ! 
The  perfect  love  outpouring 
In  perfect  service  there  ! 


IX. 


Rejoicing  and  adoring, 

Henceforth  my  song  shall  be  : 
I  love,  I  love  my  Master, 

I  will  not  go  out  free ! 


PERFECT  PEACE. 

IN  ILLNESS. 
I. 

LIKE  a  river  glorious 

Is  God's  perfect  peace, 
Over  all  victorious 

In  its  bright  increase. 
Perfect— yet  it  floweth 

Fuller  every  day ; 
Perfect — yet  it  groweth 
Deeper  all  the  way. 
Chorus.     Stayed  upon  Jehovah, 

Hearts  are  fully  blest, 

Finding,  as  He  promised, 

Perfect  peace  and  rest 

n. 

Hidden  in  the  hollow 

Of  His  blessed  hand, 
Never  foe  can  follow, 
Never  traitor  stand. 
Not  a  surge  of  worry, 

Not  a  shade  of  care, 
Not  a  blast  of  hurry 

Touch  the  spirit  there. 
Chorus.     Stayed  upon  Jehovah, 

Hearts  are  fully  blest, 

Finding,  as  He  promised, 

Perfect  peace  and  rest. 

in. 
Every  joy  or  trial 

Falleth  from  above, 
Traced  upon  our  dial 

By  the  Sun  of  Love. 


TRUST  AND   DISTRUST. 


293 


We  may  trust  Him  solely 

All  for  us  to  do  ; 
They  who  trust  Him  wholly, 

Find  Him  wholly  true. 
Chorus.     Stayed  upon  Jehovah, 

Hearts  are  fully  blest, 

Finding,  as  He  promised, 

Perfect  peace  and  rest. 


'/  AM  WITH  THEE? 
i. 

'  I  AM  with  thee  !'     He  hath  said  it 

In  His  truth  and  tender  grace  ; 
Sealed  the  promise,  grandly  spoken, 
With  how  many  a  mighty  token 
Of  His  love  and  faithfulness. 

ii. 
He  is  with  thee  ! — In  thy  dwelling, 

Shielding  thee  from  fear  of  ill ; 
All  thy  burdens  kindly  bearing, 
For  thy  dear  ones  gently  caring, 

Guarding,  keeping,  blessing  still. 

in. 
He  is  with  thee  !  —In  thy  service 

He  is  with  thee  '  certainly/ 
Filling,  with  the  Spirit's  power, 
Giving  in  the  needing  hour 

His  own  messages  by  thee. 

IV. 

He  is  with  thee  !— With  thy  spirit, 
With  thy  lips,  or  with  thy  pen  ; 
In  the  quiet  preparation, 
In  the  heart-bowed  congregation, 
Nevermore  alone  again  ! 

v, 

He  is  with  thee  ! — With  thee  always, 
All  the  nights  and  all  the  days  ; 


Never  failing,  never  frowning. 
With  His  loving-kindness  crowning, 
Turning  all  thy  life  to  praise. 

VI. 

He  is  with  thee  ! — Thine  own  Master, 

Leading,  loving  to  the  end  ; 
Brightening  joy  and  lightening  sorrow, 
All  to-day,  yet  more  to-morrow, 

King  and  Saviour,  Lord  and  Friend. 

VII. 

He  is  with  thee  ! — Yes,  for  ever, 

Now,  and  through  eternity  ; 
Then  with  Him  for  ever  dwelling, 
Thou  shalt  share  His  joy  excelling, 

Thou  with  Christ,  and  Christ  with  thee  1 


TRUST  AND  DISTRUST. 

i. 
DISTRUST  thyself,  but  trust  His  grace ; 

It  is  enough  for  thee  1 
In  every  trial  thou  shalt  trace 
Its  all-sufficiency. 

ii. 
Distrust  thyself,  but  trust  His  strength  ; 

In  Him  thou  shalt  be  strong  : 
His  weakest  ones  may  learn  at  length 

A  daily  triumph-song. 

in. 
Distrust  thyself,  but  trust  His  love  ; 

Rest  in  its  changeless  glow  : 
And  life  or  death  shall  only  prove 

Its  everlasting  flow. 

IV. 

Distrust  thyself,  but  trust  alone 

In  Him,  for  all — for  ever  ! 
And  joyously  thy  heart  shall  own 

That  Jesus  faileth  never. 


294 


LOYAL  RESPONSES. 


WITHOUT  CAREFULNESS. 

*  1  would  have  you  without  carefulness.' — I  COR. 
vii.  32. 


MASTER  !  how  shall  I  bless  Thy  name 

For  Thy  tender  love  to  me, 
For  the  sweet  enablings  of  Thy  grace, 

So  sovereign,  yet  so  free, 
That  have  taught  me  to  obey  Thy  word 

And  cast  my  care  on  Thee  ! 

ii. 

They  tell  of  weary  burdens  borne 

For  discipline  of  life, 
Of  long  anxieties  and  doubts, 

Of  struggle  and  of  strife, 
Of  a  path  of  dim  perplexities 

With  fears  and  shadows  rife. 

in. 

Oh,  I  have  trod  that  weary  path, 

With  burdens  not  a  few, 
With  shadowy  faith  that  Thou  woulds't 
lead 

And  help  me  safely  through, 
Trying  to  follow  and  obey, 

And  bear  my  burdens  too. 

IV. 

Master  !  dear  Master,  Thou  didst  speak, 

And  yet  I  did  not  hear, 
Or  long  ago  I  might  have  ceased 

From  every  care  and  fear, 
And  gone  rejoicing  on  my  way 

From  brightening  year  to  year. 

v. 

Just  now  and  then  some  steeper  slope 
Would  seem  so  hard  to  climb, 

That  I  must  cast  my  load  on  Thee  ; 
And  I  left  it  for  a  time, 

And  wondered  at  the  joy  at  heart, 
Like  sweetest  Christmas  chime. 


VI. 

A  step  or  two  on  winged  feet, 

And  then  I  turned  to  share 
The  burden  Thou  hadst  taken  up 

Of  ever-pressing  care ; 
So  what  I  would  not  leave  with  Thee 

Of  course  I  had  to  bear. 

VII. 

At  last  Thy  precious  precepts  fell 

On  opened  heart  and  ear, 
A  varied  and  repeated  strain 

I  could  not  choose  but  hear, 
Enlinking  promise  and  command, 

Like  harp  and  clarion  clear  : 

VIII. 

'  No  anxious  thought  upon  thy  brow 
The  watching  world  should  see  ; 

No  carefulness  !     O  child  of  God, 
For  nothing  careful  be  ! 

But  cast  thou  all  thy  care  on  Him 
Who  always  cares  for  thee. ' 

IX. 

Did  not  Thy  loving  Spirit  come 

In  gentle,  gracious  shower, 
To  work  Thy  pleasure  in  my  soul 

In  that  bright,  blessed  hour, 
And  to  the  word  of  strong  command 

Add  faith  and  will  and  power  ? 

x. 

It  was  Thy  word,  it  was  Thy  will — 

That  was  enough  for  me  ! 
Henceforth  no  care  shall  dim  my  trust, 

For  all  is  cast  on  Thee  ; 
Henceforth  my  inmost  heart  shall  praise 

The  grace  that  set  me  free. 

XI. 

And  now  I  find  Thy  promise  true, 
Of  perfect  peace  and  rest ; 


THY    REIGN. 


295 


I  cannot  sigh — I  can  but  sing 
While  leaning  on  Thy  breast, 

And  leaving  everything  to  Thee, 
Whose  ways  are  always  best. 

XII. 

I  never  thought  it  could  be  thus, 

Month  after  month  to  know 
The  river  of  Thy  peace  without 

One  ripple  in  its  flow  ; 
Without  one  quiver  in  the  trust, 

One  flicker  in  its  glow. 

XIII. 

Oh,  Thou  hast  done  far  more  for  me 
Than  I  had  asked  or  thought ! 

I  stand  and  marvel  to  behold 

What  Thou,   my  Lord,   hast  wrought, 

And  wonder  what  glad  lessons  yet 
I  shall  be  daily  taught. 

XIV. 

How  shall  I  praise  Thee,  Saviour  dear, 

For  this  new  life  so  sweet, 
For  taking  all  the  care  I  laid 

At  Thy  beloved  feet, 
Keeping  Thy  hand  upon  my  heart 

To  still  each  anxious  beat ! 

xv. 

I  want  to  praise,  with  life  renewed, 

As  I  never  praised  before  ; 
With  voice  and  pen,  with  song  and  speech, 

To  praise  Thee  more  and  more, 
And  the  gladness  and  the  gratitude 

Rejoicingly  outpour. 

XVI. 

I  long  to  praise  Thee  more,  and  yet, 

This  is  no  care  to  me  : 
If  Thou  shalt  fill  my  mouth  with  songs, 

Then  I  will  sing  to  Thee  ; 


And  if  my  silence  praise  Thee  best, 
Then  silent  I  will  be. 

XVII. 

Yet  if  it  be  Thy  will,  dear  Lord, 

O  send  me  forth,  to  be 
Thy  messenger  to  careful  hearts, 

To  bid  them  taste  and  see 
How  good  Thou  art  to  those  who  cast 

All,  all  their  care  on  Thee  J 


THY  REIGN. 

Righteousness,  and  peace,  and  joy  in  the  Holy 
Ghost.' — Rom.  xiv.  17. 


THY  reign  is  righteousness  ; 

Not  mine,  but  Thine  ! — 
A  covering  no  less 

Than  the  broad,  bright  waves  of  Thy  great 
sea, 

That  roll  triumphantly 
From  line  to  pole,  and  pole  to  line  ; 
A  reign  where  every  rebel  thought 

In  sweet  captivity 
To  Thine  obedience  is  brought. 

ii. 

Thy  reign  is  perfect  peace  ; 
Not  mine,  but  Thine  ! — 
A  stream  that  cannot  cease, 
For  its  fountain  is  Thy  heart.       O   depth 

unknown  ! 

Thou  givest  of  Thine  own, 
Pouring  from  Thine  and  filling  mine. 
The  '  noise  of  war  '  hath  passed  away  • 

God's  peace  is  on  the  throne, 
Ruling  with  undisputed  sway. 

in. 

Thy  reign  is  joy  divine  ! 
Not  mine,  but  Thine, 
Or  else  not  any  joy  to  me  ! 


296 


LOYAL   RESPONSES. 


For  a  joy  that  flowed  not  from  Thine  own, 
Since  Thou  hast  reigned  alone, 

Were  vacancy  or  misery. 

O  sunshine  of  Thy  realm,  how  bright 
This  radiance  from  Thy  throne, 

Unspeakable  in  calmest  light ! 

IV. 

Thy  reign  shall  still  increase ! 

I  claim  Thy  word, — 
Let  righteousness  and  peace 
And  joy  in  the  Holy  Ghost  be  found, 

And  more  and  more  abound 
In  me,    through   Thee,    O   Christ  my 

Lord; 
Take  unto  Thee  Thy  power,  who  art 

My  Sovereign,  many-crowned  ! 
Stablish  thy  kingdom  in  my  heart 


TRIED,  PRECIOUS,   SURE. 

f    'The   Same  yesterday,  and  to-day, 

TESUS    '  and  ^or  ever* — HEB>  xiii*  *** 
C  \    '  A  stone,  a  tried  stone,  a  precious 

corner  stone,    a  sure  foundation.' — 
I  ISA.  xxviii.  16. 


THROUGH  the  yesterday  of  ages, 
Jesus,  Thou  hast  been  The  Same  ; 

Through  our  own  life's  chequered  pages, 
Still  the  one  dear  changeless  name. 

Well  may  we  in  Thee  confide, 

Faithful  Saviour,  proved  and  '  TRIED  I 

ii. 

Joyfully  we  stand  and  witness 
Thou  art  still  to-day  The  Same  ; 

In  Thy  perfect,  glorious  fitness, 
Meeting  every  need  and  claim. 

Chiefest  of  ten  thousand  Thou  ! 

Saviour,  O  most  'PRECIOUS/  now  I 


in. 

Gazing  down  the  far  for  ever, 
Brighter  glows  the  one  sweet  Name, 

Stedfast  radiance,  paling  never, 
Jesus,  Jesus  !  still  The  Same. 

Evermore  '  Thou  shalt  endure  !  ' 

Our  own  Saviour,  strong  and  SURE  ! ' 


JUST  WHEN  THOU  WILT.1 
i. 

Just  when  Thou  wilt,  O  Master,  call  ! 
Or  at  the  noon,  or  evening  fall, 
Or  in  the  dark,  or  in  the  light, — 
Just  when  Thou  wilt,  it  must  be  right. 

ii. 

Just  when  Thou  wilt,  O  Saviour,  come, 
Take  me  to  dwell  in  Thy  bright  home ! 
Or  when  the  snows  have  crowned  my 

head, 
Or  ere  it  hath  one  silver  thread. 

in. 

Just  when  Thou  wilt,  O  Bridegroom,  say, 
'Rise  up,  my  love,  and  come  away  !' 
Open  to  me  Thy  golden  gate 
Just  when  Thou  wilt,  or  soon,  or  late. 

IV. 

Just  when  Thou  wilt — Thy  time  is  best — 
Thou  shalt  appoint  my  hour  of  rest, 
Marked  by  the  Sun  of  perfect  love, 
Shining  unchangeably  above. 

v. 

Just  when  Thou  wilt  ! — no  choice  for  me  ! 
Life  is  a  gift  to  use  for  Thee  ; 
Death  is  a  hushed  and  glorious  tryst, 
With  Thee,  my  King,  my  Saviour,  Christ ! 


1  Dictated  in  illness. 


OUR  EVERLASTING  FATHER  !      THIS   IS   H2 
WHO  CAME  IN  DEEP  HUMILITY 
A  LITTLE  CHILD  TO    BE  ! 


Page  169. 


VERSES   ON   TEXTS. 


VERSES  ON  TEXTS. 

'Be  quiet  ;  fear  not.' — ISA.  vii.  4. 
THOU  layest  Thy  hand  on  the  fluttering 
heart, 

And  sayest,  '  Be  still !' 
The  silence  and  shadow  are  only  a  part 

Of  Thy  sweet  will. 
Thy  Presence  is  with  me,  and  where  Thou 


art 


I  fear  no  ill. 


'  The  Lord  shall  open  unto  thee  His  good  trea- 
sure, the  heaven  to  give  the  rain  unto  thy  land 
in  his  season,  and  to  bless  all  the  work  of  thine 
hand.' — DEUT.  xxviii.  12. 

His   love  is  the  key  and  His  glory  the 

measure 
Of  grace  all-abounding  and  knowledge 

and  light : 

To  thee  shall  be  opened  this  infinite  trea- 
sure, 

To   thee,  the   unsearchable   riches   of 
Christ. 


'  "With  him  is  an  arm  of  flesh  ;  but  with  us  is 
the  Lord  our  God  to  help  us,  and  to  fight  our 
battles.  And  the  people  rested  themselves  up- 
on the  words  of  Hezekiah  king  of  Judah.'— 
2  CHRON.  xxxii.  8. 

UPON  Thy  word  I  rest, 

So  strong,  so  sure  ; 
So  full  of  comfort  blest, 

So  sweet,  so  pure. 
The  word  that  changeth  not,  that  faileth 

never  ! 
My  King  1  I  rest  upon  Thy  word  for  ever. 


1  Rest  in  the  Lord  (  "Be  silent  to  the  Lord,'* 
margin),  and  wait  patiently  for  Him.' — Ps. 
xxxvii.  7. 

REST,  and  be  silent !     For,  faithfully  list- 
ening, 

Patiently  waiting,   thine  eyes  shall  be- 
hold 

Pearls  in  the  waters  of  quietness  glistening, 
Treasures  of  promise  that  He  shall  un- 
fold. 

Rest,  and  be  silent  !  for  Jesus  is  here, 
Calming  and  stilling  each  ripple  of  fear. 


1  Write  ye  also  for  the  Jews,  as  it  liketh  you, 
in  the  king's  name,  and  seal  it  with  the  king's 
ring  :  for  the  writing  which  is  written  in  the 
king's  name,  and  sealed  with  the  king's  ring, 
may  no  man  reverse.'— ESTHER  viii.  8. 

FOR  He  hath  given  us  a  changeless  writ- 
ing, 
Royal   decrees  that  light  and  gladness 

bring  ; 

Signed  with  His  name  in  glorious  indit- 
ing, 

Sealed  on  our  hearts  with  His  own  sig- 
net ring. 


'  Casting  down  imaginations,  and  every  high 
thing  that  exalteth  itself  against  the  knowledge 
of  God,  and  binging  into  captivity  every  thought 
to  the  obedience  of  Christ.'— 2  COR.  x.  5. 

LET  every  thought 
Be  captive  brought, 

Lord   Jesus  Christ,  to  Thine  own  sweet 
obedience  1 

297 


298 


VERSES   ON   TEXTS. 


That  I  may  know, 
In  ebbless  flow, 
The  perfect  peace  of  full  and  pure  allegi- 


ance. 


'  Even  so,  Father  :  for  so  it  seemed  good  in 
Thy  sight.'— MATT.  xi.  26. 

AND  if  it  seemeth  good  to  Thee,  my  Fa- 
ther, 

Shall  it  seem  ought  but  good  to  me  ? 
Thy   will    be   done  !     Thou   knowest   I 
would  rather 

Leave  all  with  Thee. 


'  Moreover  also  I  gave  them  my  sabbaths,  to 
be  a  sign  between  me  and  them,  that  they  might 
know  that  I  am  the  Lord  that  sanctify  them.' — 
EZEK.  xx.  12. 

THE  token  of  His  truth  and  care,  the  gift 
that  He  hath  blessed, 

The  pledge  of  our  inheritance,  the  earnest 
of  His  rest  ; 

The  diamond  hours  of  holy  light,  the  God- 
entrusted  leisure : 

Oh  for  a  heart  to  prize  aright  this  rich  and 
heavenly  treasure ! 


*  O  send  out  Thy  light  and  Thy  truth  :  let  them 
lead  me  ;  let  them  bring  me  unto  Thy  holy  hill, 
and  to  Thy  tabernacles.' — Ps.  xliii.  3. 

THY  light  and  truth  forth-sending 
From  Thy  own  radiant  side, 
Be  Thou  our  Guard  and  Guide  I 

On  Thee  alone  depending, 

No  darkness  can  affright  ; 

Thy  shield  of  Truth  and  Light, 

Clear-flashing  through  the  night, 
Is  all-defending. 


'  The  Lord  taketh  pleasure  in  them  that  fear 
Him,  in  those  that  hope  in  His  mercy.' — Ps. 
cxlvii.  n. 

O  MYSTERY  of  grace, 
That  choose th  us  to  stand  before  Thy  face, 

To  be  Thy  'special  treasure/ 
Thy  portion,  Thy  delight,  Thine  own  • 

That  taketh  pleasure 
In  them  that  fear  Thy  Name,  that  hope 

alone 

In  Thy  sweet  mercy's  boundless  meas- 
ure 1 


1  And  I  will  make  of  thee  a  great  nation,  and 
I  will  bless  thee,  and  make  thy  name  great ;  and 
thou  shalt  be  a  blessing.' — GEN.  xii.  2. 

THY  Spirit's  fulness  on  him  rest, 

Thy  love  his  sunshine  be, 
And  may  he  still,  while  doubly  blest, 

A  blessing  be  from  Thee. 

Be  his  the  everlasting  name 
Inscribed  by  Thine  own  hand, 

That  he  the  promised  home  may  claim 
In  Thine  own  Holy  Land. 


'  Enoch  walked  with  God  :  and  he  was  not ; 
for  God  took  him.'— GEN.  v.  24. 

OH  may'st  thou  walk  from  hour  to  hour 
Of  every  passing  year, 
Keeping  so  very  near 

To  Him  whose  power  is  love,  whose  love 
is  power. 

So  may'st  thou  walk  !  in  His  clear  light, 
Leaning  on  Him  alone, 
Thy  life  His  very  own, 

Until  He  takes  thee  up  to  walk  with  Him 
in  white. 


A  COVENANT. 


299 


« Therefore,  O  thou  son  of  man,  speak  unto  the 
house  of  Israel :  Thus  ye  speak,  saying,  If  our 
transgressions  and  our  sins  be  upon  us,  and  we 
pine  away  in  them,  how  should  we  then  live  ?' — 
EZEK.  xxxiii.  10. 

« All  we  like  sheep  have  gone  astray  ;  we 
have  turned  every  one  to  his  own  way  ;  and  the 
Lord  hath  laid  on  Him  the  iniquity  of  us  all.' — 
ISA.  liii.  6. 

ON  Thee  the  Lord 

My  mighty  sins  hath  laid  ; 
And  against  Thee  Jehovah's  sword 

Flashed  forth  its  fiery  blade. 
The  stroke  of  justice  fell  on  Thee, 

That  it  might  never  fall  on  me. 


*  And  thine  age  shall  be  clearer  than  the  noon- 
day ;  thou  shalt  shine  forth,  thou  shalt  be  as  the 
morning.' — JOB  xi.  17- 

FEAR  not  the  westering  shadows, 

O  children  of  the  day  ! 
For  brighter  still  and  brighter 

Shall  be  your  homeward  way. 
Resplendent  as  the  morning, 

With  fuller  glow  and  power, 
And  clearer  than  the  noonday, 

Shall  be  your  sunset  hour. 


'  I  have  blotted  out,  as  a  thick  cloud,  thy 
transgressions,  and,  as  a  cloud,  thy  sins  ;  return 
unto  me  ;  for  I  have  redeemed  thee. 

'  Sing,  O  ye  heavens  ;  for  the  Lord  hath  done 
it :  shout,  ye  lower  parts  of  the  earth  ;  break 
forth  into  singing,  ye  mountains,  O  forest,  and 
every  tree  therein  :  for  the  Lord  hath  redeemed 
Jacob,  and  glorified  Himself  in  Israel.' — ISA. 
xliv.  22,  23. 

O  MOUNTAIN  heights,  break  forth  and  sing 
In  color-music,  fair  and  sweet ! 

O  forest  depths,  awake  and  bring 
Your  delicate  odors  to  His  feet. 

Sing,  for  the  Lord  hath  done  it ! 

Proclaim  Redemption,  for  He  won  it ! 

Let   Easter   hallelujahs  rise   from    every 
living  thing  ! 


'Yea,  He  is  altogether  lovely.' — CANT.  v.  16. 

THERE  is  One,  so  fair,  so-bright, 
So  good,  so  gracious !     Love,  and  Life, 

and  Light, 

Are  His  rich  titles.     Oh,  for  Him  I  long, 
To  be  my  Hope,  my  Joy,  my  Strength, 

my  Song ! 

Earth's  shadow  meits  in  conquering  light 

away 
Before  the  rising  Daystar's  earliest  ray. 


'  Let  me  hear  Thy  voice  :  for  sweet  is  Thy 
voice.' — CANT.  ii.  14. 

HAST  thou  not  heard  within  some  sacred 
pile, 

When  hushed  the  swelling  choir,  through 
vaulted  aisle 

A  sweet  low  echo  lingering  of  the  song, 

As  would  angelic  harps  the  sound  pro- 
long? 

So  through  the  silent  chambers  of  my 
soul, 

In  calmest  melody  His  sweet  words  roll. 


*  Lay  hold  on  eternal  life,  whereunto  thou  art 
also  called.' — I  TIM.  vi.  12. 

A  LIFE  is  before  thee  which  cannot  decay, 
A  glimpse  and  an  echo  are  given  to-day 
Of  glory  and  music  not  far  away. 
Take  the  bliss  that  is  offered  thee, 

And  thou  shalt  be 

Safe  and  blest  for  aye. 


A  COVENANT. 
Now,  Lord,  I  give  myself  to  Thee  ; 

I  would  be  wholly  thine. 
As  Thou  hast  given  Thyself  to  me, 

And  Thou  art  wholly  mine. 
Oh,  take  me, — seal  me  as  thine  own, 

Thine  altogether — Thine  ALONE  ! 


300 


VERSES   ON   TEXTS. 


ONLY  FOR  JESUS. 
ONLY  for  Jesus  !     Lord,  keep  it  for  ever 
Sealed  on  the   heart  and  engraved  on 

the  life  ! 

Pulse  of  all  gladness  and  nerve  of  endeavor, 
Secret  of  rest,   and  the  strength  of  our 
strife. 


CHOSEN  LESSONS. 

« Him  shall   He  teach  in  the  way  that  He 
shall  choose.'— Ps.  xxv.  12. 

IN  the  way  that  He  shall  choose 

He  will  teach  us  ; 
Not  a  lesson  we  shall  lose, 

All  shall  reach  us. 

Strange  and  difficult  indeed 

We  may  find  it, 
But  the  blessing  that  we  need 

Is  behind  it. 

All  the  lessons  He  shall  send 

Are  the  sweetest, 
And  His  training,  in  the  end, 

Is  completed. 


HITHERTO   AND  HENCEFORTH. 

HITHERTO  the  Lord  hath  helped  us, 

Guiding  all  the  way ; 
Henceforth  let  us  trust  Him  fully, 

Trust  Him  all  the  day. 

Hitherto  the  Lord  hath  loved  us, 

Caring  for  His  own  ; 
Henceforth  let  us  love  Him  better, 

Live  for  Him  alone. 

Hitherto  the  Lord  hath  blessed  us, 

Crowning  all  our  days  ; 
Henceforth  let  us  live  to  bless  Him, 

Live  to  show  His  praise. 


RHYMED    MOTTOES   FOR    THE 
MEMBERS    OF    THE    OPEN- 
AIR  MISSION. 
'Occupy  till  I  come.'— LUKE  xix.  13. 

'  OCCUPY  till  I  return  :  ' 
Let  us,  Lord,  this  lesson  learn  ; 
May  our  every  moment  be 
Faithfully  filled  up  for  Thee. 


'Be  not  far  from  me.' — Ps.  xxii.  II. 

BE  not  far  from  me,  we  pray  : 
'  I  am  with  thee  all  the  day  ; ' 
This  Thy  answer,  strong  and  clear  ! 
Master,  Thou  art  always  near. 


4 He  is  faithful  that  promised.'— HEB.  x.  23. 

THOU  art  faithful  ;  praise  Thy  name, 
Thou  art  evermore  the  same  ; 
Thou  hast  promised  ;  oh,  how  blest 
On  Thy  royal  word  to  rest ! 


He  that  winneth  souls  is  wise.' — PROV.  xi.  30. 

'  HE  that  winneth  souls  is  wise  ' 
In  the  Master's  gracious  eyes  ; 
Well  may  we  contented  be 
To  be  counted  fools  for  Thee. 


'Redeeming  the  time.'— COL.  iv.  5. 

So  may  we  redeem  the  time, 
That  with  every  evening  chime 
Our  rejoicing  hearts  may  see 
Blood-bought  souls  brought  back  to  Thee. 


'Lay  up  His  words  in  thine  heart.'— JOB  xxii. 

22. 

LET  us,  by  Thy  Spirit  stirred, 
In  our  hearts  lay  up  Thy  word. 


ADVENT  THOUGHTS. 


301 


Daily,  Lord,  increase  our  store, 
Fill  our  treasures  more  and  more. 


ADVENT  THOUGHTS, 

«  Behold,  the  Bridegroom  cometh  !  ' — MATT. 
xxv.  6. 

O  HERALD  whisper  falling 

Upon  the  passing  night, 
Mysteriously  calling 

The  Children  of  the  Light ! 

He  cometh ;  oh,  He  cometh  1 

Our  own  beloved  Lord  ! 
This  blessed  hope  up-summeth 

Our  undeserved  reward. 


He  cometh  !     Though  the  hour, 
Nor  earth  nor  heaven  may  know, 

Sure  is  the  word  of  power, 
1  He  cometh  ! '    Even  so  ! 


*  Look  up,  and  lift  up  your  heads  ;  for  your 
redemption  draweth  nigh.' — LUKE  xxi.  28. 

ADVENT  shadows  gather  deep, 

Wars  and  desolations, 
Troubled  wakings,  troubled  sleep, 

Rushing  of  the  nations. 
Advent  glory,  grand  and  clear, 

Herald 'flashes  flingeth; 
And  the  Judge  who  draweth  near, 

Full  salvation  bringeth. 


UNDER    HIS   SHADOW: 


AN  INTERLUDE. 

THAT  part  is  finished  !  I  lay  down  my  pen, 
And  wonder  if  the  thoughts  will  flow  as  fast 
Through  the  more  difficult  defile.  For 

the  last 

Was  easy,  and  the  channel  deeper  then. 
My  Master,  I  will  trust  Thee  for  the  rest ; 
Give  me  just  what  Thou  wilt,    and   that 

will  be  my  best. 

How  can  7  tell  the  varied,  hidden  need 
Of  Thy  dear  children,  all  unknown  to  me, 
Who  at  some  future  time  may  come  and 

read 
What  I  have  written  !     All  are  known  to 

Thee. 
As  Thou  hast  nelped  me,  nelp  me  to  the 

end  ; 
Give  me  Thy  own  sweet  messages  of  love 

to  send. 

So  now,  I  pray  Thee,  keep  my  hand  in 

Thine, 

And  guide  it  as  Thou  wilt.     I  do  not  ask 
To  understand  the  wherefore  of  each  line  ; 
Mine  is  the  sweeter,  easier,  happier  task, 
Just  to  look  up  to  Thee  for  every  word, 
Rest  in  Thy  love,    and  trust,    and   know 

that  I  am  heard. 


ZENITH. 
i. 

WE  watched  the  gradual  rising  of  a  star, 
Whose  delicate,    clear  ray  outshone  the 
crowd  ; 


Gleaming  between  the  rifts  of  parting 
cloud, 

Brighter  above  each  dusky-veiling  bar. 

The  fairy  child,  the  glimpse  of  girlish  face, 

Rising  to  woman's  dower  of  fairest,  full- 
est grace. 

And  still   she   rose,  and   still   she  calmly 

shone, 
Walking   in    brightness  ever-brightening 

still  ; 

Gladdening,  attracting  at  her  queenly  will, 
With  starlike  influence.  The  years  wore 

on, 

And  Isabel,  the  star,  the  pearl,  the  flower, 
Could  not  but  know  her  gift,  the  secret 

of  her  power. 

'  Never  so  lovely  as  to-night/  they  said, 
Again   and   yet  again  !     There   came   a 

night 

When  many  owned  afresh  the  royal  might 
Of  beauty,  as  she  came  with  snowfall  tread. 
And  summer  smile,  and  simple  maiden 

dress, 
Crowned  only  with  the  light  and  her  own 

loveliness. 

And  the  next  day  she  was  a  little  tired  ; 

And  the  next  night  the  rose  had  somewhat 
paled. 

The  fair  pearl  glistened,  yet  it  somewhat 
failed 

Of  the  past  gleam,  the  radiance  all-ad- 
mired. 


ZENITH. 


303 


From  the  soft  emerald,  of  the  wind-waved 

grass, 
How  soon  the  diamond  sparkle  of  the  dew 

must  pass  1 

And  the  next  week  the  sunbeams  vainly 

sought 
An  entrance,   where  their  merry  rival 

lay 

Fevered  and  weary ;  while  from  day  to 
day, 

The  quick  pulse  wasted  what  short  slum- 
ber brought 

Of  slow  renewing.     So  the  dark  mist  fell, 

And  hid  the  starry  fire  that  all  had  loved 
so  well. 

Again  she   shone,   when  from  that  dark 

mist  freed, 
But  with  that  singular  radiance  never 

more ; 

The     brightening     upward     path     so 
quickly  o'er, 

The  solemn  westward    curve   begun   in- 
deed ! 

The  unconscious  zenith  of  her  lovely  light 

Forever  left  behind  on  that  gay  triumph- 
night  ! 

n. 

Ho  !  for  the  Alps  !     The  weary  plains  of 

France, 

And  the  night-shadows,  leaving  far  be- 
hind, 

For  pearl  horizons  with  pure  summits 
lined, — 

On    through    the   Jura -gorge,     in   swift 
advance 

Speeds   Arthur,    with    keen    hope    and 
buoyant  glee, 

On  to  the  mountain  land,  home  of  the 
strong  and  free  ! 


On  !  to  the  morning  flush  of  gold  and 

rose ; 

On  !  to  the  torrent  and  the  hoary  pine  ; 
On  !    to   the  stillness  of  life's   utmost 

line ; 

On  !  to  the  crimson  fire  of  sunset  snows. 
Short  starlit  rest,  then  with  the  dawn's  first 

streak, 
On  !  to   the  silent  crown  of  some    lone 

icy  peak  ! 

'Twas  no  nerve-straining  effort,   then,   for 

him 

To  emulate  the  chamois-hunter's  leap 

Across  the  wide  rock-chasm,  or  the  deep 

And  darkly  blue  crevasse  with  treacherous 

rim, 

Or  climb  the  sharp  arete,  or  slope  of  snow, 
With  Titan  towers  above,  and  cloud-filled 
gulfs  below. 

It  was  no  weariness  or  toil  to  count 

Hour  after  hour  in   that  weird   white 

realm, 
With  guide  of  Alp-renown  to  touch  the 

helm 
Of  practised    instinct,    rocky    spires    to 

mount, 
Or  track   the   steepest  glacier's   fissured 

length, 
In  the  abounding  joy  of  his  unconquered 

strength. 

But  it  was  gladness  none  can  realize 
Who  have  not  felt  the  wild  Excelsior 

thrill, 

The  strange  exhilarate  energies  that  fill 
The  bounding  pulses,  as  the  intenser  skies 
Embrace  the  infinite  whiteness,  clear  and 

fair, 

Inhaling   vigorous   life   with   that   quick 
crystal  air. 


304 


UNDER   HIS    SHADOW/ 


That  Alpine  witchery  still  onward  lures, 
Upward,  still  upward,  till  the  fatal  list 
Grows  longer  of  the  early  mourned  and 

missed  : 

Leading  where  surest  foot  no  more  ensures 
The  life  that  is  not  ours  to  throw  away 
For  the  exciting  joys  of  one  brief  summer 
day. 

For  there  are  sudden  dangers  none  fore- 
know.; 
The  scarlet-threaded   rope   can    never 

mock 

The    sound-loosed     avalanche,     frost- 
cloven  rock, 

Or  whirling  storm  of  paralyzing  snow. 

But  Arthur's  foot  was  kept ;  no  deathward 
slips 

Darkened  the  zenith  of  his  strength  with 
dire  eclipse. 

So  year  by  year,  as  his  rich  manhood  filled, 
He  revelled  in  health-giving  mountain 

feats  ; 

Spurning  the  trodden  tracks  and  curi- 
ous streets, 

As  fit  for  old  men  and  for  boys  unskilled 
In  Alpine  arts,  not  strong  nor  bold  enough 
To  battle  with  the   blast  and   scale   the 
granite  bluff. 

One  glowing  August  sun  went  forth  in 

might, 
And  smote  with  rosy  sword  each  snowy 

brow, 
Bright   accolade   of  grandeur !     Now, 

oh  now 

Amid  that  dazzling  wealth  of  purest  light, 
His  long  ambition  should  be  crowned  at 

last, 
And  every  former  goal  rejoicingly  o'erpast. 


For  ere  the  white  fields  softened   in   the 

glow, 

He  stood  upon  a   long- wooed  virgin- 
peak, 
One  of  the  few  fair  prizes  left  to  seek  ; 

Each  rival  pinnacle  left  far  below  ! 

He  stood  in  triumph  on  the  conquered 
height  : 

And  yet  a  shadow  fell  upon  his  first  de- 
light. 

For  well  he  knew  that  he  had  surely  done 
His  utmost,  and  that  never  summer  day 
Could  bring  a  moment  on  its  radiant 

way 
Like  the  first  freshness  of  that  conquest, 

won 

Where  all  had  lost  before.     A  sudden  tear 
Veiled  all  the  glorious  view,  so  grand,  so 
calm,  so  clear ! 

in. 

An  hour  of  song  !  of  musical  delight 
To  those  whose  quick,   instructed  ear 

could  trace, 
Through     complex      harmonies,     the 

artistic  grace, 
The  finest  shades  of  meaning,    and   the 

might 

Of  order  and  of  law.     Nor  less  to  those 
Who  loved  it  as  we  love  the  fragrance  of 

the  rose. 

And  Cecil  stood,  with  all  the  added  ease 
Of  ripe  experience  and  of  sure  success  ; 
With  all  her  glad  instinctive  conscious- 
ness 

Ofnatural  gift  that  could  not  fail  to  please  ; 
With  all  her  rich  maturity  of  tone, 
Like   sun-glow  of  the  South   on   purple 
clusters  thrown. 


ZENITH. 


305 


She  sang  rejoicing  in  her  song, — each  bar 
A  separate   pulse   of  pleasure.     Were 

there  none 

To  listen  and  applaud,  or  only  one, 
As  freely  she  had  poured  it.     For  a  star 
Shines,  not  because  we  watch  it !     Only 

blaze 
Of  artificial  light  reserves  its  measured  rays. 

Yet  who,  that  ever  tasted,  does  not  know 
The  witchery  of  any  phase  of  power, 
Ascendency  unsought,  magnetic  dower 
Of  influence?     And  Cecil  found  it  so, 
And  though  but  vaguely  conscious  of  her 

might, 

Lived  in  her  own  strong  spell,  a  glamour 
of  delight. 

Nor  only  joy  of  power  and  joy  of  song 
To  fill  the  singer's  chalice  were  com- 
bined ; 

But  sympathetic  influences  of  mind 
Acting,     re-acting,     as    the    charmed 

throng 
Followed   the   wave    of  her   swift  magic 

wand, 

Yet  lured  her  ever  on  to  fair  heights  still 
beyond. 

And  so  the  song  passed  to  its  dying  fall, 
As  the  electric  interchanges  crossed. 
What  marvel  that  the  closing  chord 

was  lost 

In  rush  of  quick  applause  and  fond  re- 
call ! 
And  Cecil  rose  once  more,  and  poured 

again, 

From   fuller-gushing  fount,    the   doubly 
welcomed  strain. 

Higher  and  higher  rose  the  glorious  song, 

Deeper    and    deeper  grew  the  silence 

round  ; 

20 


All  unrestrained    the    free,    full  notes 

resound, 

In  splendid  carol-gladness,  holding  long 
Unwearied  listeners  in  chains  unseen, 
As  willing  captives  led  by  their  victorious 

queen. 

Tribute  of  wondering  smile  was  freely 

paid, 
And    then,    as    subtle    modulation 

wrought 
Soft  shadows    in   the   sunny   strain, 

some  brought 
The   deeper  homage  of  a   tear,  and, 

swayed 

Beyond  confession,  strove  in  vain  to  hide 
The    unconquerable  rush  of  sweet  emo- 
tion's tide. 

Then  once  again  the  clear  tones  rose 

and  swelled, 
While  flashed  the  singer's  eye  with 

inward  fire, 
And  still  the  spirit  of  the  song  soared 

higher 

Until  the  closing  cadence,  as  she  held 
All  hearts  entranced,  till  like  a  sunset  ray,, 
The  last,    long  sweet   note  thrilled,  and 
softly  died  away. 

And  all  was  over  !     Ah,  she  had  not 

guessed 
That  she  had  touched  the  zenith  of 

her  song, 
That  gradual   declining,    slow    and 

long 
Must  mark  the  path  now  trending  to 

the  west  1 
No    boundary  line  is  seen,    and  yet  we 

cross 

In  one  veiled    hour,  from  gain,   to  sure 
though  lingering  loss. 


306 


'  UNDER    HIS    SHADOW.' 


She  often  sang  again.     But  oftener  fell 
Apologies  of  unaffected  truth. 
There  was  more  effort,  yet  less  pow- 
er, in  sooth ; 
The    ringing  tone  less  like   a  golden 

bell. 
'  Not  quite  in  voice  of  late.     I'll  do  my 

best! 

Do  not  expect  too  much  ;    I  think  my 
voice  needs  rest.' 


So  one  by  one  the  songs  no  more  were 

seen 
That  called  for  grandest   tone   and 

clearest  trill. 
And  when    she    sang,   though    old 

friends  loved  it  still, 
The  stranger  wondered  what  the  spell 

had  been. 
And   then  they  spoke  of  how  she  used  to 

sing  ! 
Passing,  or  passed  away  is  every  earthly 


thing. 


IV. 


A  silent  house  beneath  a  dome  of  stars, 
A  deeply    shaded    lamp,     a    lonely 

room  ; 
A  fire  whose   fitful  whisper  through 

the  gloom 
In  rhythmic  cadence  leapt  athwart  the 

bars  : 

A  broad,  worn  desk  ;  a  broad,  worn,  bend- 
ing brow  ; 

Yet  a  bright  eye  beneath,  full  of  strange 
brightness  now. 

A  rapid  hand,  that  wrote  swift  vords  of 

flame, 

Far-glowing  words  to  kindle  other 
fires  ; 


Words  that  might  flash  along  Time's 

mystic  wires, 
And   thrill    the  ages  with  a  deathless 

name  ; 
Barbed  words,  that  fasten  where  they  fall, 

and  stay 

Deep  in  the  souls  of  men,  and  never  pass 
away. 

Little  recked  Theodore  of  fame  that  night 
And  less  of  gold.     The    current   was 

too  strong 
For  such  vain  barques  to  launch.     It 

swept  along 
Whither   he  hardly  knew  ;   the   impulse 

bright 

Passing  at  every  turn  some  opening  view, 
Some  echoing    mountain   height,    some 
vista  far  and  new. 


Lost  memories  trooped  in  amid  the  crowd 
Of  happiest  images  ;    ethereal  forms 
Of  weirdly    prescient    fancy,    spectral 

swarms, 

Before  him  in  oppressive  beauty  bowed, 
And  beckoned  him,  with  gleaming  hands, 

to  grasp 

Their  fleeting  loveliness  in  firm  and  joy- 
ous clasp. 

And  inward    music  rose,    and  wreathed 

around 

Each  thought  that  shaped  itself  to  out- 
line clear ; 

The  royal  chimes  rang  on,  more  sweet, 
more  near, 

With  every  gust.     He  caught  the  silver 
sound, 

And  cast  its  fairy  mantle  o'er  the  flow 

Of  his  melodious  lines,  in  all  their  fiery 
glow. 


ZENITH. 


307 


Such  times  are  but  the  crystallizing  hours 
That  make  the  rainbow-bearing  prism. 
They  change 

Long-seething  soul-solutions  into  strange 

And  startling  form  ; — new  properties  and 
powers, 

And  beauties  hardly  dreamt,  yet  latent 
there, 

The  poet-touch  evokes,  strong,  marvel- 
lous, and  fair. 

For  there  are  long,  slow  overtures  before 
Such  bursts  of  song  ;  much  tension  un- 

confessed, 

Much  training  and  much    tuning, — 
years  compressed, 

Concentrated  in  ever-filling  store  J 

Till  thoughts,  that  surged  in  secret  deep 
below, 

Rise  from  volcanic  fount  in  sudden  over- 
flow. 

Much   living  to  short  writing  !  such  the 

law 
Of  living   poems,  that   have    force    to 

reach 

Depths  that  are  sounded  by  no  surface- 
speech, 

And  thence  the  sympathetic  waters  draw 

With  golden  chain  of  many  a  fire-forged 
link, 

Gently,  yet  mightily,  up  to  the  pearly 
brink. 

Was  it  the  stillness  of  the  lonely  night 
That   set   his   spirit   free,    with  wizard 

hand, 

Opening  the  gates  of  more  than  fairy- 
land ? 

Oft  had  he  known  the  pulse  of  poet- 
might, 


But  never  quite   the  free,  exultant  power 
In  which  he  revelled  now  through  that 
enchanted  hour. 

Was  it  not  rather  the  harvest-time, 

After  the  sowing  and  the  watering  long, 
Was  fully  come  ;  the  golden  sheaves  of 

song 

Falling  in  fulness,  and  that  royal  chime 
Pealing  the   harvest-home  of  wealth  un- 
seen, 

Where   the  remaining  years  might  only 
come  and  glean  ? 

At  length  the  last  page  lay  beneath  the 

light, 
From     wavering     erasure     free,     and 

wrought 
Too  perfectly  for  any  after-thought 

He  rose,  threw  up  the  sash,  and  on  the 
night,— 

The  brilliant,  solemn  night, — looked  forth 
and  sighed, 

And  felt  the  immediate  ebb  of  that  unwon- 
ted tide. 

For  it  was  over  !  and  the  work  was  done 
For  which  his  life  was  lived  !    uncon- 
scious yet ! 

The  blossom  fell  because  the  fruit  was 
set ; 

The  standard  furled  because  the  field  was 
won. 

And  with  the  energy,  the  gladness  passed, 

And  left  him  wearied  out  and  sorrowful  at 
last 

For  only  work  that  is  for  God  alone 
Hath  an  unceasing  guerdon  of  delight, 
A  guerdon  unaffected  by  the  sight 

Of  great  success,  nor  by  its  loss  o'erthrown. 


308 


'  UNDER   HIS   SHADOW.' 


All  else  is  vanity  beneath  the  sun, 
There  may  be  joy  in  doing,  but  it  palls 
when  done. 

v. 

Once    more.     A    battle-field    of   mental 

might, 

A  broad  arena  for  the  utmost  skill 
Of  world-famed  gladiators,  echoing  still 
With  praise  or  cruel  blame,  beyond  the 

sight 

Of  each  day's  keen  spectators,  to  the  verge 
Of  widest  continents  and  ocean's  farthest 
surge. 

A  great  arena,  whence  the  issues  flow 
Not  only  through  an  empire  but  a  world, 
Moulding  the  centuries ;    wherein   are 

hurled 
Thunders  whose  ultimate  havoc  none  can 

know, 
Striking  not  names  but   nations  : — such 

the  scene 
Of  conflict  and  renown,  long  entered  Dy 

Eugene. 

Many  a  time  his  weighty  sword  he  threw 
Into  the  scale  of  victory,  and  swayed 
The  critical  turns,  the  great  events  that 

made 

The  era's  history.     For  well  he  knew 
Each  subtle  art  of  eloquence,  combined 
With  rarest  gifts   of  speech,  and   native 
powers  of  mind. 

His  patriotism  earned  a  noble  meed 
Of  trust  and  honor,  more  than  any  fome, 
And  sweeter.     Yet  some  thought  his 

hard-won  claim 

Not  meekly  recognized.     Perchance   in- 
deed 


The  shadow  crossed  his  own  thought,  as 

he  found 
Less   kingly  orators  with  heavier  laurels 

crowned. 

At  length  a  contest  of  long  doubtful  end 
Drew   to   a   climax,  and  his  soul  was 

stirred, 

And  every  generous  faculty  was  spurred 

To  utmost  energy.     For  he  could  spend 

His  very  self  upon  the  cause  that  seemed 

Clear  justice  and  clear  right ;  or  rather,  so 

he  deemed  ! 

For  there  are  few  who  care  to  analyze 
The  mingled  motives,  in  their  complex 

force, 

Of  some  apparently  quite  simple  course. 

One  disentangled  skein  might  well  surprise. 

Perhaps  a  '  single  heart '  is  never  known 

Save  in  the  yielded  life  that  lives  for  God 

alone,  — 

And  that  is  therefore  doubted,  as  a  dream, 
By  those  who  know  not  the  tremendous 

power 
Of  all-constraining   love  !     So  in  that 

hour 
Of  fierce   excitement,   'mid  the   flashing 

gleam 

Of  measured  glaive,  I  will  not  dare  to  say 
That  Eugene's  purest  zeal  no  party  claim 

might  sway. 

Still,  all  combined  to  bid  the  eagle  soar 
Beyond  the  common  clouds,  the  shift- 
ing mists 

Of  every-day  debate,  the  very  lists 
Of  strong  opponents  strengthening   him 
the  more. 


ZENITH. 


309 


As  the  strong  pinion  finds  the  opposing 

breeze 
The  very  means  of  rising  over  land  and 


seas. 


So  Eugene  rose  in  his  full  manly  strength, 
Reining  at  first  the  fiery  courser  in, 
That  with  calm  concentration  he  might 
win 

The  captious   ear  : — reserve  of  power  at 
length, 

At  the  right  moment  from  the  wise  curb 
freed, 

Triumphantly  burst  forth  with  grand  im- 
petuous speed. 

And  as  the  great  speech   mounted  to  a 

pause 
Some   foes  were  silenced,  some   were 

wholly  gained, 
And  all  were  spellbound,  stilled,  and 

marvel-chained, 

And,  more  than  all  the  clatter  of  applause, 
The  cause  was  won  !     '  Eugene  was  at  his 

best 
To-night !'     So  much  they  knew  1    They 

did  not  know  the  rest ! 

For  they  who  watched  with  envy  or  delight 
The  moment  of  his  zenith,  little  knew 
It  was  the  moment  of  his  setting  too  ; 

For  fell  paralysis  drew  near  that  night. 

Never  again  Eugene  might  proudly  stand 

And  sway  the  men  who  swayed  the  sceptre 


of  his  land. 


VI. 


A  simple  Christmas  Day  at  home  !     And 

yet 

It  was  the  very  zenith  of  two  stars 
That  rose  together  through  the  cloudy 

bars 


1  See  Duke  of  Argyle's  '  Reign  of  Law.' 


In  bright  perpetual  conjunction  met. 
A  day  whose  memory  should  nevercease, — 
A  Coronation  Day  of  Love  and  Joy  and 
Peace. 

The  culmination  of  two  lives  that  passed 
Through   many  a  chance  and  change 

of  chequered  years, 
Each  shining  for  the  other,  hopes  and 

fears 
Centred  within  their  home  !    And  now  at 

last 

They  gazed  upon  a  clear,  calm  sky  around, 
And  rested  in  their  love,  that  day  serenely 

crowned. 

Bernard  and  Constance  had  no  wish  be- 
yond 
Each   other's  gladness,  and  the   fuller 

good 
Of  those  beloved  ones  who  blithely  stood 

Around  the  Christmas  fire, — the  fair  and 
fond, 

The  strong  and  merry  ;  sons  and  daugh- 
ters grown 

In  closest  unity, — rich  treasures  all  their 
own. 

Bright  arrows  of  full  quiver  !  still  unshot 
By  ruthless  bow   of  Time   and  scattered 

wide, 

Still  in  the  sweet  home-bundle  tightly  tied, 
Though  feathered  for  the  flight  from  that 

safe  spot. 
Flight  when  ?  and  whither  ?     Ah  me  !  who 

might  say 

What  should  befall  before  another  Christ- 
mas Day  ! 

Closer  they  clustered  in  the  twilight  fall, 
And  talked  of  pleasant   memories  of  the 
year, 


'UNDER    HIS    SHADOW.* 


And  then   of  pleasant  prospects  far  and 

near  ; 

Each  name  responding  at  each  gleeful  call. 
The  merry  mention  of  a  dear  name  there 
Had  never  yet  been  hushed  by»any  empty 

chair. 

But,  most  of  all,  the  gladness  and  the  pride 
Circled  around  the  eldest  brother's  name  ; 
His  first  success,  his  rising  college  fame, 
Made  merriest  music  at  that  warm  fireside  ; 
And  in  the  parent-hearts  deep  echoes  thrill- 
ed, 

As  the  repeated  chord  proclaimed  fond 
hopes  fulfilled. 

No  dim  presentiment  of  sorrow  fell 
Upon  that  zenith  hour  of  happiness, 
Perhaps  the  brightest  that  could  ever  bless 
A  merely  earthly  lot ;  the  purest  well 
Of  natural  joy,  unselfish,  undefiled, 
Up-springing  to   the   day,    while   heaven 
above  it  smiled. 

And  so  the  evening  hours  sped  swiftly  by, 

And  Christmas  carols  closed  the  happy 
time, 

And  Christmas  bells,  in  sweet  wind-wafted 
chime, 

Stole  softly  through  the  shutters.  Not  a 
sigh 

With  music  of  the  gay  good-night  was 
blent, 

No  discord  in  that  full,  harmonious  con- 
tent. 

What   then  ?       Bernard    and  Constance 

wakeful  lay 

A  long,  long  while,  unwilling  each  to  tell 
That,  as  the  midnight  tolled,  it  seemed 

the  knell 
Of  the  great  gladness  of  that  Christmas 

Day. 


'  Oh,  what  if  it  should  prove  too  bright  to 

last, 
Clear  shining  that  precedes  the  wild  and 

rainy  blast !' 

And  they  were  right.     It  could  not   come 

again  ! 

Sickness,  and  scattering,  and  varied  woe, 
Yet  nothing  but  the  lot  of  most  below, 
Soon  marred   the   music   of  that  perfect 

strain. 
And  though  the  westering  path  had  many 

a  gleam, 

That  zenith-joy  was  but  an  oft-remember- 
ed dream. 


VII. 

A  soft  spring  twilight.  Cherry  blossoms 
white 

Whispered  about  the  summer  they  were 
told 

Was  coming,  when  the  beech  trees  would 
unfold 

Their  horny  buds,  and  chestnuts  would  be 
dight 

In  great  green  leaves.  '  What  will  be- 
come of  us  ? ' 

They  wondered  !  And  they  shivered  as 
they  questioned  thus. 

For  the  east  wind  came   by,    with  curfew 

bell 
Upon  his  wings,  and  touched  them  stealth- 

iiy, 

Shrivelling  the  tender  leaves.     And  silently 
In  their  sweet  white  array  the  blossoms 

fell. 

Ah  for  the  zenith  of  the  cherry  tree  ! 
Yet  is  it  past,  although  the  snowy  glories 

be? 


ZENITH. 


Wait  for  the  shining  of  the  summer  day  ; 
Wait  for  the   crimson  glow  amid   the 

green  ; 
Wait  for  the  wealth  of  ruby  ripeness, 

seen 

After  the  fitful  spring  has  passed  away. 
Wait  till  the  Master  comes,  with  His  own 

hand 
To  find  His  pleasant  fruit  in  clusters  rich 

and  grand. 

Yes,  soft  spring  twilight !     And  a  bowing 

head, 

A  kneeling  form  amid  the  shadows  gray  ; 
A  heart   from   which   the   hopes   had 

passed  away, 
That  made  life  exquisite  as  the  blossoms 

shed 

Around  that  open  window  ; — and  a  throb 
Of  dull  gray  pain,  that  rose,  and   forced 

one  low  deep  sob. 

Only  the  zenith  of  his  youth  had  passed, 
And   scarcely  that     Yet   perhaps   the 

saddest  time 

Is  while  the  echo  of  the  matin  chime 
Has  hardly  died  away  in  silence  vast  ; 
Sadder  to  realize  the  noonday  height, 
Than   the  slow-gathering  shades  of  long 
impending  night 

It  did  not  seem  that  there  could  ever  be 
Another  zenith,  different,  and  bright 
With   grander  hopes,    and    far    more 

glorious  light 

Than  all  the  spells  of  syren  minstrelsy, 
And  all  the  love  and   gladness   that   en- 
twined 

The  merry  paths  of  youth,  for  ever   left 
behind. 


For  Godfrey  had  no  special  powers  to  spur 
To  emulation  in  the  great  world-race, 
No  special  gifts  or  aims  ; — the  open 

space 

A  possible  joy  had  filled — the  dream  of  her 
Who  might  have  been  and  yet  was  not  to 

be 

Queen   of  his  life  !  and  now — the  dark- 
draped  throne  was  free  ! 

Free  !     Yet  another  claimed  that  empty 

throne, 
And  in  the  twilight  He   was   drawing 

near, 
'Mid   all  those  shadows  of  dim  grief, 

and  fear, 

And  sense  ofvanity.  The  King  unknown, 
Unrecognized  as  yet,  was  come  to  reign, 
And  yet  to  crown  the  life  that  owned  its 

life  was  vain. 

And  while  the  spring  airs  trembled  through 

the  trees, 
The  gracious  Wind  that  bloweth  where 

it  lists 

Dispersed     the     fallacies,    the   world- 
breathed  mists 

That  hid  unseen  realities.     That  Breeze 
Unveiled  the  mysteries  of  hidden  sin, 
And  let  the  all-searching  Light  flash  start- 
lingly  within. 

Then  the  vague  weariness  was  roused  in- 
deed, 

And  passed  away  forever,  as  he  saw 
The  nearer  lightnings  of  the  holy  law 

Through  suddenly  deepening   darkness  ; 
then  the  need 

More    of  a   Saviour    than    mere    safety 
dawned 

In   lurid  daybreak,  as  he  glimpsed   the 
gulf  that  yawned 


312 


'UNDER   HIS   SHADOW/ 


Close  at  his  feet — those  careless  feet  that 

trod 

So  merrily  a  harmless-seeming  course 

Of  merely  useless  pleasure,  by  the  force 

Of  custom,  and  yet  never  came  to  God, 

Never  yet  stepped  upon  the  Living  Way 

That  only  leads  to  life  and  everlasting  day. 

Again  that  holy  Breeze  swept  by  in  might, 
And  fanned  each  faint  desire  to  stronger 

flame ; 
He  said,  '  O  bid  me  come  to  Thee  !' 

He  came, 

Just  as  he  was,  that  memorable  night. 
And  lo  !  the   King,  who  waited   at  the 

door, 
Entered,  to  save,  to  reign,  and  to  go  out 

no  more. 

And  then  he  saw  those  awful  lightnings 

fall 
Through   the  cleft    heavens    upon    a 

lonely  Tree 

That  stood  upon  a  mount  called  Calvary, 
And  knew  that  stroke  had  spent  the  fiery 

ball  : 
And  then  the  earthquake  closed  the  gulf 

below, 
While  he  stood  all  unscathed,  safe  from 

the  overthrow. 

'  Stood, '  said  I  ?     Nay,  in  wonder  and  in 

love 
As  on  that  more  than  vision   Godfrey 

gazed, 
He   fell   at   his   Deliverer's    feet,    and 

praised 
With  a  new  sweetness,    sweet  as   harps 

above, 
The  glorious  One,  whose  royal  grace  had 

saved 
The  aimless  wanderer,  who  never  grace 

had  craved. 


Far  in  the  night  this  wondrous  watch  he 

kept 
With  the  unslumbering  Shepherd,  while 

a  joy, 

The  first  he  ever  knew  without  alloy, 
Filled  all  His  soul  with  light.     At  last  he 

slept, 
Wrapped  in  this  strange  new  peace,  whose 

steady  beam 
Made  all   his   past   life  seem   a    sinful, 

troubled  dream. 

What  then  ?     It  was  no  zenith,   though 

the  star 
Of  life  shone  out  at  radiant  height,  that 

dimmed 
Each   previous   gleam   to  gloom   that 

barely  rimmed 
The  shifting  clouds,  with  something,  mat, 

from  far 
Might  have  been  fancied  light,  yet  only 

made 
The  darkness  more  discerned,  the  spirit 

more  afraid. 

Rather,  it  was  the  rising  !  the  first  hour 
Of  the  true  shining,  that  should  rise 

and  rise 

From  glory  unto  glory,  through  God's 
skies, 

In  strengthening  brightness  and  increas- 
ing power. 

A  rising  with  no  setting,  for  its  height 

Could  only  culminate  in   God's   eternal 
light. 

The  feeble  glimmer  of  the  former  days, 
The  hope,  the  love,  the  very  glee,  that 

paled 
Just  at  their  seeming  zenith,  and  then 

failed 

Of  fuller  sparkling, — all    the    scattered 
rays 


ZENITH. 


313 


Were  caught  up  and  transfigured,  in  the 

blaze 
Of  the  new  life  of  love,   and  energy,  and 

praise. 

The  joy  of  loyal  service  to  the  King 
Shone   through  them  all,    and  lit  up 

other  lives 
With   the  new  fire  of  faith,    that  ever 

strives, 

Like  a  swift-kindling  beacon,  far  to  fling 
The  tidings  of  His  victory,  and  claim 
New  subjects  for  His  realm,  new  honor  for 
His  Name. 

And  so  the  years  flowed  on,  and  only  cast 
Light,  and  more  light,  upon  the  shin- 
ing way, 

That  more  and  more  shone  to  the  per- 
fect day  ; 

Always  intenser,  clearer  than  the  past ; 
Because  they  only  bore  him  on  glad  wing 
Nearer  the  Light  of  Light,  the  Presence 
of  the  King. 

Who  recks  the  short  recession  of  a  wave 
In  the  strong  flowing  of  a  tide  ?     And 

so 
Without  a  pang  could    Godfrey   leave 

below 

Successive  earthly  zeniths,  while  he  gave 
A  glad   glance   upward   to   the   rainbow 

Throne, 
And  joyously  pressed  on  to  nobler  heights 

alone. 

Or  if  awhile  a  looming  sorrow-cloud 
He  entered,   still  he  found  the   Glory 

there, 
Shechinah-brightness  resting  still   and 

fair 
Within  the  holy  curtains,  as  he  bowed 


Before  the  Presence  on  the  Mercy-seat; 
Then  forth  he  came  with  sound  of  golden 
bells  most  sweet. 

And  then  the  music  floated  on  the  wind, 
A  constant  carol  of  glad  tidings  told, 
Of  how  the  lives  the  One  Life  doth  en- 
fold 

Are  ever  with  that  Life  so  closely  twined, 
That  nought  can  separate,  below,  above, 
And  life  itself  is  one  long  miracle  of  love. 

At  last  the  gentle  tone  was  heard,    that1 

falls 

In  all-mysterious  sweetness  on  the  ear 
That  long  has  listened,  longing,  with- 
out fear, 

Because  so  well  it  knows  the  Voice  that 
calls ; 

Though  only   once  that  solemn   call   is 
heard, 

While  angel-songs  take  up  the  echoes  of 
the  word, 

'  Friend,   go   up  higher ! '     So   he   took 

that  night 
The  one  grand  step,  beyond  the  stars 

of  God, 
Into    the    splendor,    shadowless    and 

broad, 

Into  the  everlasting  joy  and  light. 
The  Zenith  of  the  earthly  life  was  come  ; 
What   marvel  that  the  lips  were  for  the 

moment  dumb  ! 

What  then  ?     Eye   hath   not    seen,    ear 

hath  not  heard  ! 

Wait  till  thou  too  hast  fought  the  no- 
ble strife, 
And  won,  through   Jesus   Christ,  the 

crown  of  life ! 

Then  shalt  thou  know  the  glory  of  the 
word, 


UNDER    HIS   SHADOW.' 


Then  as  the  stars  for  ever — ever  shine, 
Beneath  the  King's  own  smile, — perpet- 
ual Zenith  thine  ! 


THE  THOUGHTS  OF  GOD. 

THY  thoughts,  O  God  !  O  theme  Divine  ! 
Except  Thy  Spirit  in  my  darkness  shine, 

And  make  it  light, 
And  overshadow  me 

With  stilling  might, 

And  touch  my  lips  that  I  may  speak  of 
Thee,— 

How  shall  I  soar 

To  thoughts  of  Thy  thoughts  ?  and  how 
dare  to  write 

Of  Thine? 

Thou  understandest  mine 
Far  off  and  long  before. 
Thou   searchest,     knowest,    compassest ! 
Thy  hand  is  laid 

Upon  me.     Whither  shall  I  flee 
From  Omnipresence  and  Omniscience? 

If  I  fly 
To  heaven,  Thou  art  there  :    and  if  I  lie 

In  the  unseen  land, 

Behold,  Thou  art  there  also  !    If  I  take 
The  wings  of  morning,  and  my  dwelling 

make 

In  the  uttermost  parts  of  the  great  sea, 
Even  there  Thy  hand  shall  lead  me,  Thy 
right  hand 

Shall  hold  me.     If  I  say 

Surely  the  night 
Shall  cover  me,  it  shall  be  light 

About  me.     Yea,  the  shade 
Of  darkness  hideth  not  from  Thee, 

Night  shineth  as  the  day  ; 
The    darkness   and   the    light   are   both 
alike  to  Thee. 


Thee  I  will  praise  :   for  I  am  fearfully 

And  wonderfully  made. 
My  substance  was  not  hid  from  Thee 
When  I  was  made  in    secret,  curiously 
wrought 

And  yet  imperfect.     Then 

Thine  eyes  did  see  me.     In  Thy  book 

Were  all  my  members  written,  when 

Not  one  of  them  was  into  being  brought 

Such  knowledge  is  too  wonderful  for  me, 

Too  excellent,  too  high.    Yet  'tis  but  one 

Keen  ray  of  Thy  great  sun 
Touching  an  atom  in  a  dusty  nook  ! 

One  ray !    while  others    traverse    depths 

profound 
Of  possible  chaos  ;   and  illume 

The  boundless  bound 
Of  space  ;  and  vivify  worlds  all  unguessed, 

To  whom 

Our  farthest  eastern  spark, 
Caught  by  the  mightiest  telescope    that 
ever  pierced  the  dark, 
Is  farthest  west. 

One  ray !  while  others  overflow 
The  countless  hosts  of  angels  with  celes- 
tial blaze ; 

With  still  diviner  glow, 
Flooding  each  heart  with  adoration  sweet  ; 

And  yet  too  glorious  for  the  gaze 
Of  seraphim,  who  cover  face  and  feet 

With  burning  wings, 

While  through  the  universe  their  '  Holy, 
holy/  rings. 

Only  one  ray  !     Yet  doth  it  come 
So  close  to  us,  so  very  near, 

Our  inmost  selves  enfolding, 
Discerning,    penetrating, — we,  beholding 
Its  terrible  brightness,  well  might  fear, 
But  for  the  glow 


THE  THOUGHTS   OF   GOD. 


315 


Of  known  and  trusted  Love  that  pulseth 
warm  below. 
And  so 

The  psalm  ariseth,  strong  and  clear, 
'  How  precious  are  Thy  thoughts  to  me, 
O  God  ! 

How  great  their  sum  1 ' 
Uncounted,   marvellous,   and   very   deep 
and  broad, 

Unsearchable  and  high  1 

Infinity 
Of  holiest,  mightiest  mystery, 

That  never  sight 
Or  tongue  of  mortal  seer 
Could  see  or  tell, 
That  never  flight 

Of  flame-like  spirits  that  in  strength  excel 
Hath  reached  !     The  very  faith  that  brings 

us  near 
Reveals  new   distances,    new    depths    of 

light 

Unfathomed,— seas  of  suns  that  never  eye 
Created,  hath  beheld  or  ever  can  behold  ! 
What  know  we  of  God's  thoughts  ?     One 
word  of  gold 

A  volume  doth  enfold. 

They  are— 'Not  ours  ! 
Ours  ?    what   are  they  ?    their  value  and 

their  powers  ? 

So  evanescent,  that  while  thousands  fleet 
Across  the  busy  brain, 
Only  a  few  remain 

To  set  their  seal  on  memory's  strange  con- 
sistence. 

Of  these,  some  worthless,  some  a  life-re- 
gret, 

That  we  would  fain  forget ; 
And  very  few  are  rich  and  great  and  sweet  ; 
And  fewer  still  are  lasting  gain, 
And  these  most  often  born  of  pain, 
Or   sprung  from  strong  concussion   into 
strong  existence. 


What    else  ?      Even    in    their    proudest 

strength  so  weak, 
So  isolated  and  so  rootless, 
So  flowerless  and  so  fruitless  ; — 
We  think,  and  dare  not  do  — we  ^  think, 

and  cannot  speak  ! 
A  thought  alone  is  less  than  breath, 
Only  the  shudder  of  a  living  death, 

A  thing  of  scorn, 

A  formless  embryo  in  chaos  born, 
It  must  be  seized  with  resolute  grasp  of 
will, 

With  swiftness  and  with  skill, 
And  moulded  on  life's  anvil,  ere  it  glow 

With  any  fire  or  force  ; 
And  wrought  with  many  a  blow 
And  welded  in  the  heat  by  toiling  strength 
With  many  another,  ere  it  go  at  length 
The  humblest  mission  to  fulfil. 

And  then  its  tiny  might 
Is  not  inherent,  but  alone  dependent 

Upon  the  primal  source 
And  spring  of  power,  First,  Sols,  Supreme, 
Transcendent ! 

What  else  ?     So  circumscribed  in  flight ! 
Like   bats  in  sunshine,  striking  helpless 

wings 

Against  the  shining  things, 
That  to  their  dazzled  sight 
Appear  not ;  hindered  everywne. 
By  unseen  obstacles  with  puzzling  pain. 
Or  like  the  traveller,  toiling  long  to  gain 

An  Alpine  summit,  white  and  fair, 
With  far-extending  view  •  but  still  with- 
held, 
And  to  the  downward  track  with  fainting 

step  compelled 

By  an  intangible  barrier ;  for  the  air 
Is  all  too  rare, 
Too  keenly  pure 


'  UNDER  KIS   SHADOW.' 


For  valley-dweller  to  endure. 
For  thus  our  thoughts  rebound 
From  the  Invisible-Infinite,  on  every  side 

Hemmed  ever  round 

By  the.  Impassable,  that  never  mortal  pin- 
ion 
Hath  over-soared,  that  mocks  at  human 

pride, 
Imprisoned  in  its  own  supposed  dominion. 

What  else  ?     So  mingled,  so  impure  ; 
So  interwoven  with  the  threads  of  sin, 
Visible  or  invisible  as  the  sight 

Is  purged  to  see  them  in  God's  light  ; 
So  subtle  in  their  changeful  forms,  now 

dark,  now  bright ; 
Such  mystery  of  iniquity  within, 
That  we  must  loathe  our  very  thoughts, 

but  for  the  cure 

He  hath  devised, — the  blessed  Tree 
The  Lord  hath  shown  us,  that,  cast  in, 

can  heal 

The  fountain  whence  the  bitter  waters  flow. 
Divinest  remedy 

Whose  power  we  feel, 
Whose  grace  we  comprehend  not,  t>ut  we 
know. 

What  else  ?  So  fallible,  so  full  of  errors,  — 

No  certainty !     In   aught  unproved  and 
new, 

Treading  volcanic  soil  o'er  smothered  ter- 
rors ; 

Spectral  misgivings  rising  to  the  view, 
As  each  step  crushes  through 

Some  older  crust  of  truth  assumed.     And 

this  is  all 
That  human  thoughts  can  do, 

Leaning  on  human  strength  and  reason 
solely  ; 

Now  wrong,  now  right,  now  false,  now 
true, 


As  may  befall . 
And  even  the  truest  never  reaching  wholly 

Truth  Absolute, 
That  still  our  touch  eludes, 
And  vanishes  in  deeper  depths  when  man 
intrudes 

Within  her  awful  solitudes, 
Where  many  a  string  is  mute 
And  many  awanting,  all  the  rest 
Imperfectly  attuned  at  best,— 
We  can  but  wait  for  truth  of  tone, 
For  truth  of  modulation  and  expression, 

With  lowliest  confession 
Of  utter  powerlessness,  content 
To  trust  His  thoughts  and  not  our  own, — 
Until  the  Maker  of  the  instrument 
Shall  tune  it  in  another  sphere, 
By  His  own  perfect  hand  and  ear, 

Now  turn  we  from  the  darkness  to  the 

light, 

From  dissonance  to  pure  and  full  accord ! 
'  My  thoughts  are  not  as  your  thoughts, 

saith  the  Lord, 
Nor  are  your  ways  as  My  ways.     As  the 

height 
Of  heaven  above  the  earth,  so   are   My 

ways, 
My  thoughts,  to  yours  ; — out  of  your  sight, 

Above  your  praise/ 
O  oracle  most  grand  ! 
Thus  teaching  by  sublimest  negative 
What  by  a  positive   we  could  not  under- 
stand, 

Or,  understanding,  live  ! 
And  now,  search  fearlessly 
The  imperfections  and  obscurity, 

The  weakness  and  impurity, 
Of  all  our  thoughts.     On  each  discovery 
Write,    '  NOT  as  ours !'     Then,  in  every 
line, 


THE   THOUGHTS   OF   GOD. 


317 


Behold  God's  glory  shine 
In  humbling  yet  sweet  contrast,  as  we  view 
His  thoughts,  Eternal,  Strong,  and  Holy, 

Infinite,  and  True. 

And  now,  what  have  we  of  these  thoughts 

of  God, 

So  high,  so  deep,  so  broad  ? 
What  hath  He  given,  and  what  are  we  re- 
ceiving ? 
A  revelation 
Dim,  pale,  and  cold 

Beside   their  hidden  fire,  yet  gorgeously 
enscrolled 

Upon  His  wide  Creation. 
He  would  not  all  withhold, 
His  children  in  the  silent  darkness  leaving  ; 
Nor  would  He  overwhelm  our  heart 

And  strike  it  dumb  ; 
And  so  He  hath  enfolded  some 
In  fair  expressions  for  the  eye  and  ear 

Though  faint,  yet  clear  ; 
Such  as  our  powers  may  apprehend  in  part. 

Thus  hath  He  wrought 
The  dazzling  swiftness  of  the  thought 
That  veiled  itself  for  mortal  ken  in  light. 

And  thus  the  myriad-handed  might 
Of  that  from  which   the  million-teeming 
ocean  fell, 

No  greater  toil  to  Him, 
From  silent  depth  to  surfy  rim, 
Than  the  small  crystal  drop  which  fills  a 

rosy  shell. 

And  thus  the  Infinite  Ideal 
Of  perfect  Beauty,  (only  real 
In  Him  and  through  Him,  pure  concep- 
tion 

Too  exquisite  for  our  perception, ) 
He  hath  translated,  giving  us  such  lines 

As  we  can  trace, 
In  mountain  grandeur  and  in  lily  grace, 


In  sunset,  cloudland,  or  soul-moulded  face, 

Such  alphabets  and  signs 
As  we,  His  little  ones,  may  slowly,   softly 

read, 
Supplying  thus  a  deep,  true  spirit-need. 

What  know  we  more  ?     One  thought  He 

hath  expressed, 

In  that  great  scheme 
Of  which  we,  straining,  catch  a  glimose  or 

gleam 
In  light  or  shadow  • — scheme  embracing 

all, 

Star-system  cycles  and  the  sparrow's  fall ; — 
Scheme   all-combining,   wisest,  grandest, 

best. 
We  call  it  Providence.     And  each  may 

deem 
Himself  a  tiny  centre  of  that  thought  ; 

For  how  mysteriously  enwrought 
Are  all  our  moments  in  its  folds  of  might, 

Our  own  horizon  ever  bounding 
And  yet  not  limiting,  but  still  surrounding 
Our  lives,  while  reaching  far  beyond  our 

quickest  sight. 

O  thought  of  consummated  harmony  ! 
Each  life  is  one  note  in  that  symphony, 
Without  which   were   its   cadence  incom- 
plete : 
Yet  each  note  complex,  formed  of  many  a 

reed  ; 
And  each  reed  quivering  with  vibrations 

passing  count, 

And  each  vibration  blending 
In  mystic  trinities  ascending 
Through  weird  harmonics  that  recede 
Into  the  unknown  silences,  or  meet 
In  clashing  thrills  unanalyzed,  and  mount 
In  tangled  music,  yet  all  plain  and  clear 

Unto  the  Master's  ear. 
O  thought  of  consummated  melody 


UNDER    HIS   SHADOW.' 


And  perfect   rhythm  !  though   its  mighty 

beat 
Transcend  angelic  faculty, 

And  though  its  mighty  bars 
May  be  the  fall  of  worlds,  the  birth  of  stars, 
Its  measure — all  eternity — - 

One  echo,  calm  and  sweet, 
Our  clue  to  this  great  music  ot  God's  plan, 
Sounds  on  in  ever-varying  repeat — 
Glory  to  God  on  high,  peace   and   good- 
will to  man  ! 

What   have   we    more?      Scan   we    the 
blinding  blaze 

Of  the  refulgent  rays 

Outpoured  from  the  Very  Fount  of  Light  ? 
One  thought  of  God  in  undiluted  splendor 

Flashed  on  our  feeble  gaze, 
Were  never  borne  by  mortal  sight 
He  knew  it,  and  he  gave, 

In  mercy  tender, 
All  that  the  soul  unwittingly  doth  crave, 

All  that  it  can  receive.     He  robed 
In  finite  words  the  sparkles  of  His  thought, 

The  starry  fire  englobed 
In   tiny  spheres  of  language,    shielding, 

softening  thus 

The    living,    burning   glory.       And    He 
brought 

Even  to  us 
This   strange  celestial    treasure   that    no 

prayer 

Had  asked  of  Him,  no  ear  had  heard, 
No  heart  of  man  conceived.      He  laid  it 

there, 
Even   at  our  feet,  and  said  it  was    His 

Word. 

O  mystery  of  tender  grace  !     We  find 
God's  thoughts  inhuman  words  enshrined, 
God's  very  life  and   love  with    ours   en- 
twined. 


All  wonderingly  from  page   to   page  we 

pass, 

Owning  the  darkening  yet  revealing  glass  ; 
In  every  line  we  trace, 

In  fair  display, 

Prismatic  atoms  of  the  glorious  bow 
Projected  on  the  darkest  cloud  that  e'er 
O'ergloomed   the   world    that   God   had 

made  so  fair, 

The  rainbow  of  His  covenant ;  each  one 
Reflecting  perfectly  a  sevenfold  ray, 

Shot  from  the  sun 
Of  His  exceeding  love, 
Strong  and  serene  above, 
Upon  a  tremulous  drop  of  tearful  life  be- 
low. 

One  thought,   His  thought  of  thoughts, 

awakes  our  song 

Of  endless  thanks  and  marvelling  adora- 
tion 
More  than  aught  else.     For  Providence, 

Creation, 

All  He  hath  made  and  all  He  doth  pre- 
pare, 

Thoughts  grand,  and  wise,  and  strong, 
Thoughts  tender  and  most  fair, 
Are  pale  beside  the  glory  of  Salvation, 
Redemption's  gracious  plan  and  glorious 

revelation  : — 

The  focus  where  all  rays  unite  ; 
Each  attribute  arrayed  in  sevenfold  light, 
Each  adding  splendor  to  the  rest. 

The  meeting  blest 
Of  His  great  love  and   foreseen   human 

woe 

Struck  forth  a  mighty  fire,  that  sent  a  glow 
Throughout  the  universe  ; — an  overflow 

To  the  dim  confines  that  none  know 
Save  He  who  traced  them  ;    lit  up  glori- 
ously 


THE   THOUGHTS   OF   GOD. 


319 


The  farthest  vistas  of  Eternity  ; 

And,  flooding  heaven  itself  with  radiance 

new, 
Revealed  the  heart  of  God,  all-merciful 

all-true. 

Thus   are   the   thoughts    of  God   made 

known  to  men. 
Yet  is  all  revelation  bounded 
First  by  its  vehicle,  and  then 
By  its  reception.     Unseen  things 
Remain   unfathomed  and  unsounded, 

And  hidden  as  the  springs 
Of  an  immeasurable  sea, 
Because  His  thought,  sublime  and  great, 
No  language  finds  commensurate 

With  its  infinity  ; 

And  when  compressed  in  any  finite  mould, 
'Tis  but  a  fraction  that  the  mind  of  man 
Receiveth.     For  we  hold 
But  what  we  span, 
We  only  see 
What  feeble  lenses  and  weak  sight  may 

scan. 
And   thus  a   double    lessening,    double 

veiling 
Of  the  unimagined  glory  of  a  thought  of 

Him 
Who  dwells  between  the  cherubim  1 

First,  suffering  and  paling 
By  its  necessitate  transition 
From  Infinite  to  Finite,  for  that  all  ex- 
pression 

Is  by  its  nature  finite  ;  then  the  vision 
Which  angels  might  receive  straightway, 
Unshorn  of  any  ray, 
And  hold  in  full  possession, 
Must  enter  by  the  portal 
Of  faculties  sin-paralyzed  and  mortal  ; 
And  in  the  human   breast's   low-vaulted 
gloom 

It  finds  no  room 
For  any  high  display. 


This  is  no  guess-work.     It  is  even  so 
With  our  poor  thoughts.     For-  they   are 

always  more 
Than  any  form  or  language  can  convey. 

We  know 
Things  that  we  cannot  say  ; 

We  soar, 
Where  we  could  never  map  our  flight 

We  see 

Flashes  and  colorings  too  quick  and  bright 
For  any  hand  to  paint.     We  meet 
Depths  that  no  line  can  sound.     We  hear 
Strange  far-off  mental  music,  all  too  sweet, 
Too  great  for  any  earthly  instrument ; 
Gone,  if  we  strive  to  bring  it  near. 

For  who  that  knows 
The  sudden   surging  and   the    startling 

throes 
Of  subterranean  soul-fires  with  no  vent, 

That  seek  an  Etna  all  in  vain  ; — 
Or  the  slow  forming  of  some  grand,  fair 

thought, 

With  exquisite  lingering  outwrought, 
Only  to  melt  before  the  touch  of  effort  or 

of  pain  : — 
(Like  quivering  rose-fire  'neath  a  filmy  veil 

In  mountain  dawn, 
That  grows  all  still  and  pale 
When  the  transparent  silver  is  withdrawn. ) 
Oh  !    who   that  knows    but    owns    the 

meagre  dower 
Of    poor    weak     language     married   to 

thought's  royal  power — 
Oh  !  who  that  knows  but  needs  must  own, 
If  it  be  thus 
Even  with  us, 

Groping  and  tottering  alone 
Around  the  footstool  of  His  throne, 
With  limited  ideas  and  babe-like  powers, 
What   must   it    be    with     Him,     whose 
thoughts  are  not  as  ours  ! 


320 


'  UNDER   HIS    SHADOW.' 


And  now 
We  only  bow, 
And  gaze  above 

In  raptured  awe  and  silent  love  ; 
For  mortal  speech 
Can  never  reach 

A  world  of  meetly-moulded  praise, 
For  one  glimpse  of  the  blessdd  rays, 
Ineffable  and  purely  bright, 
Outflowing  ever  from  the  Unapproached 
Light 


They  say  there  is  a  hollow,  safe  and  still, 

A  point  of  coolness  and  repose 
Within  the  centre  of  a   flame,  where   life 

might  dwell 

Unharmed  and  unconsumed,  as  in  a  lumi- 
nous shell, 

Which  the  bright  walls  of  fire  enclose 
In   breachless  splendor,    barrier  that  no 
foes 

Could  pass  at  will. 

There  is  a  point  of  rest 
At  the  great  centre  of  the  cyclone's  force, 

A  silence  at  its  secret  source  ; — 
A  little  child  might  slumber  undistressed, 
Without  the  ruffle  of  one  fairy  curl, 
In   that  strange   central   calm   amid  the 
mighty  whirl. 

So,  in  the  centre  of  these  thoughts  of  God, 
Cyclones  of  power,  consuming  glory-fire,  — 

As  we  fall  o'erawed 
Upon  our  faces,  and  are  lifted  higher 
By  His  great  gentleness,  and  carried  nigher 
Than  unredeemed  angels,  till  we  stand 

Even  in  the  hollow  of  His  hand, — 
Nay,  more  !  we  lean  upon  His  breast — 
There,  there  we  find  a  point  of  perfect  rest 

And  glorious  safety.     There  we  see 


His   thoughts   to   usward,  thoughts   of 

peace 

That  stoop  to  tenderest  love  ;  that  still  in- 
crease 
With   increase   of  our  need  ;  that  never 

change, 

That  never  fail,  or  falter,  or  forget. 
O  pity  infinite  ! 
O  royal  mercy  free  ! 

O  gentle  climax  of  the  depth  and  height 
Of  God's  most  precious   thoughts,  most 

wonderful,  most  strange  ! 
'  For  I  am  poor  and  needy,  yet 
The  Lord  Himself,  Jehovah,  thinketh  upon 
me/' 


THE   MINISTRY  OF  INTER- 
CESSION. 
THERE  is  no  holy  service 

But  hath  its  secret  bliss  : 
Yet  of  all  blessed  ministries, 

Is  one  so  dear  as  this  ? 
The  ministry  that  cannot  be 

A  wondering  seraph's  dower, 
Enduing  mortal  weakness 

With  jnore  than  angel  power. 
The  ministry  of  purest  love 

Uncrossed  by  any  fear, 
That  bids  us  meet  at  the  Master's  feet, 

And  keeps  us  very  near. 

God's  ministers  are  many, 

For  this  His  gracious  will, 
Remembrancers  that  day  and  night 

This  holy  office  fill. 
While  some  are  hushed  in  slumber, 

Some  to  fresh  service  wake, 
And  thus  the  saintly  number 

No  change  or  chance  can  break. 
And  thus  the  sacred  courses 

Are  evermore  fulfilled, 


THE    MINISTRY   OF   INTERCESSION. 


321 


The  tide  of  grace  by  time  or  place 
Is  never  stayed  or  stilled. 

Or,  if  our  ears  were  opened 

To  hear  as  angels  do 
The  Intercession-chorus 

Arising  full  and  true, 
We  should  hear  its  soft  up-welling 

In  morning's  pearly  light, 
Through  evening's  shadows  swelling 

In  grandly  gathering  might, 
The  sultry  silence  filling 

Of  noontide's  thunderous  glow, 
And  the  solemn  starlight  thrilling 

With  ever  deeping  flow. 

We  should  hear  it  through  the  rushing 

Of  the  city's  restless  roar, 
And  trace  its  gentle  gushing 

O'er  ocean's  crystal  floor  ; 
We  should  hear  it  far  up-floating 

Beneath  the  Orient  moon, 
And  catch  the  golden  noting 

From  the  busy  Western  noon, 
And  pine-robed  heights  would  echo 

As  the  mystic  chant  up-floats, 
And  the  sunny  plain  resound  again 

With  the  myriad-mingling  notes. 

Who  are  the  blessed  ministers 

Of  this  world-gathering  band  ? 
All  who  have  learnt  One  Language, 

Through  each  far-parted  land  ; 
All  who  have  learnt  the  story 

Of  Jesu's  love  and  grace, 
And  are  longing  for  His  glory 

To  shine  in  every  face. 
All  who  have  known  the  Father 

In  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord, 
And  know  the  might  and  love  the  light 

Of  the  Spirit  in  the  Word. 
31 


Yet  there  are  some  who  see  not 

Their  calling  high  and  grand, 
Who  seldom  pass  the  portals, 

And  never  boldly  stand 
Before  the  golden  altar 

On  the  crimson-stained  floor, 
Who  wait  afar  and  falter, 

And  dare  not  hope  for  more. 
Will  ye  not  join  the  blesse'd  ranks 

In  their  beautiful  array  ? 
Let  intercession  blend  with  thanks 

As  ye  minister  to-day  ! 

There  are  little  ones  among  them, 

Child-ministers  of  prayer, 
White  robes  of  intercession 

Those  tiny  servants  wear. 
First  for  the  near  and  dear  ones 

Is  that  fair  ministry, 
Then  for  the  poor  black  children 

So  far  beyond  the  sea. 
The  busy  hands  are  folded, 

As  the  little  heart  uplifts 
In  simple  love,  to  God  above, 

Its  prayer  for  all  good  gifts. 

There  are  hands  too  often  weary 

With  the  business  of  the  day, 
With  God-entrusted  duties, 

Who  are  toiling  while  they  pray. 
They  bear  the  golden  vials, 

And  the  golden  harps  of  praise, 
Through  all  the  daily  trials, 

Through  all  the  dusty  ways. 
These  hands,  so  tired,  so  faithful, 

With  odors  sweet  are  filled, 
And  in  the  ministry  of  prayer 

Are  wonderfully  skilled. 

There  are  ministers  unlettered, 
Not  of  Earth's  great  and  wise, 


322 


'UNDER   HIS    SHADOW/ 


Yet  mighty  and  unfettered 

Their  eagle-prayers  arise. 
Free  of  the  heavenly  storehouse  ! 

They  hold  the  master-key 
That  opens  all  the  fulness 

Of  God's  great  treasury. 
They  bring  the  needs  of  others, 

And  all  things  are  their  own, 
For  their  one  grand  claim  is  Jesu's  name 

Before  their  Father's  throne. 

There  are  noble  Christian  workers, 

The  men  of  faith  and  power, 
The  overcoming  wrestlers 

Of  many  a  midnight  hour  ; 
Prevailing  princes  with  their  God, 

Who  will  not  be  denied, 
Who  bring  down  showers  of  blessing 

To  swell  the  rising  tide. 
The  Prince  of  Darkness  quaileth 

At  their  triumphant  way, 
Their  fervent  prayer  availeth 

To  sap  his  subtle  sway. 

But  in  this  Temple-service 

Are  sealed  and  set  apart 
Arch-priests  of  intercession, 

Of  undivided  heart. 
The  fulness  of  anointing 

On  these  is  doubly  shed, 
The  consecration  of  their  God 

Is  on  each  low-bowed  head. 
They  bear  the  golden  vials 

With  white  and  trembling  hand  ; 
In  quiet  room  or  wakeful  gloom 

These  ministers  must  stand, — 

To  the  Intercession-Priesthood 

Mysteriously  ordained, 
When  the  strange  dark  gift  of  suffering 

This  added  gift  hath  gained. 


For  the  holy  hands  uplifted 

In  suffering's  longest  hour 
Are  truly  Spirit-gifted 

With  intercession-power. 
The  Lord  of  Blessing  fills  them 

With  His  uncounted  gold, 
An  unseen  store,  still  more  and  more, 

Those  trembling  hands  shall  hold. 

Not  always  with  rejoicing 

This  ministry  is  wrought, 
For  many  a  sigh  is  mingled 

With  the  sweet  odors  brought. 
Yet  every  tear  bedewing 

The  faith-fed  altar  fire 
May  be  its  bright  renewing 

To  purer  flame,  and  higher. 
But  when  the  oil  of  gladness 

God  graciously  outpours, 
The   heavenward    blaze   with   blended 
praise 

More  mightily  upsoars. 

So  the  incense-cloud  ascendeth 

As  through  calm  crystal  air, 
A  pillar  reaching  unto  heaven, 

Of  wreathed  faith  and  prayer. 
For  evermore  the  Angel 

Of  Intercession  stands 
In  His  Divine  High  Priesthood, 

With  fragrance-filled  hands, 
To  wave  the  golden  censer 

Before  His  Father's  throne, 
With  Spirit-fire  intenser, 

And  incense  all  His  own. 

And  evermore  the  Father 

Sends  radiantly  down 
All-marvellous  responses, 

His  ministers  to  crown  ; 
The  incense-cloud  returning 

As  golden  blessing-showers, 


'FREE   TO   SERVE.' 


323 


We  in  each  drop  discerning 
Some  feeble  prayer  of  ours. 

Transmuted  into  wealth  unpriced, 
By  Him  who  giveth  thus 

The  glory  all  to  Jesus  Christ, 
The  gladness  all  to  us ! 


' FREE  TO  SERVE: 

SHE  chose  His  service.     For  the  Lord  of 

Love 

Had  chosen  her,  and  paid  the  awful  price 
For  her  redemption  ;  and  had  sought  her 

out, 

And  set  her  free,   and  clothed  her  glori- 
ously, 

And  put  His  royal  ring  upon  her  hand, 
And   crowns  of  loving-kindness    on   her 

head. 
She  chose  it.     Yet  it  seemed  she  could 

not  yield 

The  fuller  measure  other  lives  could  bring ; 
For  He  had  given  her  a  precious  gift, 
A  treasure  and  a  charge  to  prize  and  keep, 
A  tiny  hand,  a  darling  hand,  that  traced 
On  her  heart's  tablet  words  of  golden  love. 
And  there  was  not  much  room  for  other 

lines, 
For   time  and  thought  were  spent   (and 

rightly  spent, 
For  He  had  given  the  charge),  and  hours 

and  days 
Were  concentrated  on  the  one  dear  task. 

But  He  had  need  of  her.    Not  one  new 

gem, 
But  many,   for  His  crown ;  not  one  fair 

sheaf, 
But  many,   she  should  bring.     And   she 

should  have 
A  richer,  happier  harvest-home  at  last, 


Because  more  fruit,  more  glory,  and  more 

praise, 
Her  life  should  yield  to  Him.     And  so 

He  came, 
The    Master  came  Himself,  and   gently 

took 

The  little  hand  in  His,  and  gave  if.  room 
Among  the  angel- harpers.     Jesus  came 
And  laid  His  own  hand  on  the  quivering 

heart, 

And  made  it  very  still,  that  He  might  write 
Invisible  words  of  power — '  Free  to  serve  V 
Then  through  the  darkness  and  the  chill 

He  sent 

A  heat-ray  of  His  love,  developing 
The   mystic  writing,  till   it  glowed   and 

shone 

And  lit  up  all  ner  life  with  radiance  new, — 
The  happy  service  of  a  yielded  heart. 
With  comfort  that  He  never  ceased  to  give, 
Because  her  need  could  never  cease,  she 

filled 

The  empty  chalices  of  other  lives, 
And  time  and  thought  were  thenceforth 

spent  for  Him 
Who  loved  her  with  His  everlasting  love. 

Let  Him  write  what  He  will  upon    our 

hearts 
With  His  unerring  pen.     They  are  His 

own, 
Hewn   from   the  rock   by   His   selecting 

grace, 
Prepared  for  His  own  glory.     Let  Him 

write  ! 
Be  sure  He  will  not  cross  out  one  sweet 

word 

But  to  inscribe  a  sweeter, — but  to  grave 
One  that  shall  shine  for  ever  to  His  praise, 
And  thus  fulfil  our  deepest  heart-desire. 
The  tearful  eye  at  first  may  read  the  line 


324 


UNDER   HIS   SHADOW.1 


'Bondage  to  grief!'  but  He   shall   wipe 

away 

The  tears,  and  clear  the  vision,  till  it  read 
In  ever-brightening  letters,  '  Free  to  serve !' 
For  whom  the  Son  makes  free  is  free  in- 
deed. 


Nor  only  by  reclaiming  His  good  gifts, 
But  by  withholding,  doth  the  Master  write 
These  words  upon  the  heart.  Not  always 

needs 

Erasure  of  some  blessed  line  of  love 
For  this  more  blest  inscription.     Where 

He  finds 

A  tablet  empty  for  the  Mines  left  out/ 
That   '  might  have  been  '  engraved  with 

human  love 

And  sweetest  human  cares,  yet  never  bore 
That  poetry  of  life,  His  own  dear  hand 
Writes  '  Free  to  serve  !'    And  these  clear 

characters 
Fill   with   fair  colors  all  the  unclaimed 

space, 
Else  gray  and  colorless. 

Then  let  it  be 

The  motto  of  our  lives  until  we  stand 
In  the  great  freedom  of  Eternity, 
Where  we  '  shall  serve  Him '  while  we  see 

His  face, 
For  ever  and  for  ever  '  Free  to  serve. ' 


COMING  TO  THE  KING. 
2  CHRON.  ix.  1-12. 

I  CAME  from  very  far  away  to  see 

The  King  of  Salem ;   for  I  had  been 

told 
Of  glory  and  of  wisdom  manifold, 

And  condescension  infinite  and  free. 


How  could  I  rest,  when  I  had  heard  His 

fame, 
In  that  dark  lonely  land  of  death  from 

whence  I  came  ? 

I  came    (but  not  like  Sheba's  Queen), 

alone  ! 

No  stately  train,  no  costly  gifts  to  bring  : 
No  friend  at  court,  save  One,  that  One 

the  King  ! 

I  had  requests  to  spread  before  His  throne, 
And  I  had  questions  none  could  solve  for 

me, 
Of  import  deep,  and  full  of  awful  mystery. 

I  came  and  communed  with  that  mighty 

King, 
And  told  Him  all  my  heart ;  I  cannot 

say, 
In  mortal  ear,  what  communings  were 

they. 
But  wouldst    thou   know,    go   too,    and 

meekly  bring 

All  that  is  in  thy  heart,  and  thou  shalt  hear 
His  voice  of  love  and  power,  His  answers 

sweet  and  clear. 

O  happy  end  of  every  weary  quest ! 

He  told  me  all  I  needed,  graciously  ; — 
Enough  for  guidance,  and  for  victory 
O'er  doubts  and  fears,  enough  for  quiet  rest; 
And  when  some  veiled  response  I  could 

not  read, 

It  was   not    hid    from    Him, — this  was 
enough  indeed. 

His  wisdom  and  His  glories  passed  before 
My  wondering  eyes  in  gradual  revela- 
tion ; 
The  house  that  He  had  built,  its  strong 

foundation, 

Its  living  stones ;  and,  brightening  more 
and  more, 


REALITY. 


325 


Fair  glimpses  of  that  palace  far  away, 
Where  all  His  loyal  ones  shall  dwell  with 
Him  for  aye. 

True  the  report  that  reached  my  far-off 

land 
Of  all    His  wisdom  and   transcendent 

fame  ; 

Yet  I  believed  not  until  I  came,  — 
Bowed  to  the  dust  till  raised  by  royal  hand. 
The  half  was  never  told  by  mortal  word  ; 
My  King  exceeded  all  the  fame  that  I  had 
heard  ! 

Oh,  happy  are  His  servants !  happy  they 
Who  stand  continually  before  His  face, 
Ready  to  do  His  will  of  wisest  grace  ! 

My  King  !  is  mine  such  blessedness  to-day? 

For  I  too  hear  Thy  wisdom,  line  by  line, 

Thy  ever-brightening  words  in  holy  radi- 
ance shine. 

Oh,  blessed  be  the  Lord  thy  God  !  who  set 
Our  King  upon  His  throne.  Divine 

delight 
In   the   Beloved  crowning   Thee   with 

might, 

Honor,  and  majesty  supreme  ;  and  yet 
The  strange  and  Godlike  secret  opening 

thus, — 
The    kingship    of    His    Christ    ordained 

through  love  to  us  ! 

What  shall  I  render  to  my  glorious  King  ? 
I  have  but  that  which  I  receive  from 

Thee; 

And  what  I  give,  Thou  givest  back  to 
me, 

Transmuted  by  Thy  touch  ;  each  worthless 
thing 

Changed  to  the  preciousness  of  gem  or 
gold, 

And  by  Thy  blessing  multiplied  a  thou- 
sand-fold. 


All  my  desire  Thou  grantest,  whatsoe'er 
I  ask  !    Was  ever  mythic  tale  01  dream 
So  bold  as  this  reality, — this  stream 
Of  boundless  blessings  flowing  full  and 

free? 

Yet  more  than  I  have  thought  or  asked  of 
Thee, 

Out  of  Thy  royal  bounty  still  Thou  givest 
me. 

Now  I  will  turn  to  my  own  land,  and  tell 
What  I  myself  have  seen  and  heard  of 

Thee, 
And  give  Thine  own   sweet   message, 

4  Come  and  see  ! ' 

And  yet  in  heart  and  mind  for  ever  dwell 
With  Thee,  my  King  of  Peace,  in  loyal 

rest, 

Within  the  fair  pavilion  of  Thy  presence 
blest. 

'  Surely  in  what  place  my  Lord  the  King  shall 
be,  whether  in  death  or  life,  even  there  also  will 
thy  servant  be.'— 2  SAM.  xv  21. 

'  Where  I  am,  there  shall  also  My  servant  be  ' 
JOHN  xii.  26. 


REALITY. 

1  FATHER,  WE  KNOW  THE  REALITY  OF  JESUS 
CHRIST.' — Words  used  by  a  workman  in prayer '.l 

REALITY,  reality, 

Lord  Jesus  Christ,  Thou  art  to  me  ! 
From   the   spectral    mists    and    driving 

clouds, 

From  the  shifting  shadows  and  phantom 
crowds  : 


1  *  At  another  prayer  meeting  on  the  same 
day  a  young  Christian  who  had  been  witnessing 
for  this  '  reality'  among  those  who  called  reli- 
;ion  a  'phantom'  and  a  •  sham'  prayed  earnestly, 
Lord  Jesus,  let  Thy  dear  servant  write  for  us 
what  Thou  art— Thou  living,  bright  Reality  !  ' 
And,  urging  His  plea  with  increasing  vehe- 
mence, he  added,  'and  let  her  do  it  this  very 
night.''  That  'very  night'  these  verses  were 
flashed  into  my  mind  ;  while  he  was  '  yet  speak- 
ng,'  they  were  written  and  dated.  Does  not  this 
how  the  « reality  of  prayer  ?  ' 


326 


'UNDER   HIS   SHADOW/ 


From  unreal  words  and  unreal  lives, 
Where  truth  with  falsehood  feebly  strives  ; 
From  the  passings  away,  the  chance  and 

change, 
Flickerings,  vanishings,  swift  and  strange, 

I  turn  to  my  glorious  rest  on  Thee, 

Who  art  the  grand  Reality. 

Reality  in  greatest  need, 
Lord  Jesus  Christ,  Thou  art  indeed  ! 
Is  the  pilot  real,  who  alone  can  guide 
The  drifting  ship  through  the  midnight 

tide? 

Is  the  lifeboat  real,  as  it  nears  the  wreck, 
And  the  saved  ones  leap  from  the  parting 

deck  ? 
Is  the  haven  real,  where  the  barque  may 

flee 
From  the  autumn  gales  of  the  wild  North 

Sea? 

Reality  indeed  art  Thou, 
My  Pilot,  Lifeboat,  Haven  now  ! 

Reality,  reality, 

In  brightest  days  art  Thou  to  me  ! 
Thou  art  the  sunshine  of  my  mirth, 
Thou  art  the  heaven  above  my  earth, 
The  spring  of  the  love  of  all  my  heart, 
And   the  Fountain  of  my  song  Thou  art ; 
For  dearer  than  the  dearest  now, 
And  better  than  the  best,  art  Thou, 

Beloved  Lord,  in  whom  I  see 

Joy-giving,  glad  Reality. 

Reality,  reality, 

Lord  Jesus,  Thou  hast  been  to  me. 
When   I   thought  the  dream  of  life   was 

past, 
And   '  the   Master's   home-call '  come   at 

last ; 

When  I  thought  I  only  had  to  wait 
A  little  while  at  the  Golden  Gate, — 


Only  another  day  or  two, 
Till   Thou   Thyself  shouldst    bear    me 
through, 

How  real  Thy  presence  was  to  me  ! 

How  precious  Thy  Reality  ! 

Reality,  reality, 

Lord  Jesus  Christ,  Thou  art  to  me  ! 
Thy  name  is  sweeter  than  songs  of  old, 
Thy  words  are  better  than  '  most  fine 

gold/ 

Thy  deeds  are  greater  than  hero-glory, 
Thy  life  is  grander  than  poet-story ; 
But  Thou,  Thyself,  for  aye  the  same, 
Art  more  than  words  and  life  and  name  ! 

TtiysetfThou  hast  revealed  to  me, 

In  glorious  Reality. 

Reality,  reality, 

Lord  Jesus  Christ,  is  crowned  in  Thee. 
In  Thee  is  every  type  fulfilled, 
In  Thee  is  every  yearning  stilled 
For  perfect  beauty,  truth,  and  love  ; 
For  Thou  art  always  far  above 
The  grandest  glimpse  of  our  Ideal, 
Yet  more  and  more  we  know  Thee  real, 

And  marvel  more  and  more  to  see 

Thine  infinite  Reality. 

Reality,  reality, 
Of  grace  and  glory  dwells  in  Thee. 

How  real  Thy  mercy  and  Thy  might ! 

How  real  Thy  love,  how  real  Thy  light  I 

How  real  Thy  truth  and  faithfulness  ! 

How  real  Thy  blessing  when  Thou  dost 
bless  ! 

How  real  Thy  coming  to  dwell  within  ! 

How  real  the  triumphs  Thou  dost  win ! 
Does  not  the  loving  and  glowing  heart 
Leap  up  to  own  how  real  Thou  art  ? 

Reality,  reality  ! 
Such  let  our  adoration  be  ! 


FAR   MORE   EXCEEDING. 


327 


Father,    we   bless  Thee  with   heart    and 

voice, 
For  the  wondrous  grace  of  Thy  sovereign 

choice, 

That  patiently,  gently,  sought  us  out 
In  the  far-off  land  of  death  and  doubt, 
That   drew   us  to   Christ  by  the  Spirit's 

might, 

That  opened  our  eyes  to  see  the  light 
That  arose  in  strange  reality, 
From  the  darkness  falling  on  Calvary. 

Reality,  reality, 

Lord  Jesus  Christ,  Thou  art  to  me  ! 
My  glorious  King,  my  Lord,  my  God  ! 
Life  is  too  short  for  half  the  laud, 
For  half  the  debt  of  praise  I  owe 
For  this  blest  knowledge,  that  '  I  know 
The  reality  of  Jesus  Christ/ — 
Unmeasured  blessing,  gift  unpriced  ! 
Will  I  not  praise  Thee  when  I  see 
In  the  long  noon  of  Eternity, 
Unveiled,  Thy  '  bright  Reality  ! ' 


FAR  MORE  EXCEEDING. 

aO'   vrepfioJtrfv    £/£  v 


—2  COR.  iv.  7. 

'FROM  glory  unto   glory  !'     Thank  God, 

that  even  here 
The   starry   words   are   shining   out,  our 

heavenward  way  to  cheer  ! 
That  e'en  among  the   shadows   the   con- 

quering brightness  glows, 
As  ever  from  the  nearing   Light   intenser 

radiance  flows. 

4  From    glory   unto   glory  !'      Shall  the 

grand  progression  fail 
When  the  darkening  glass  is  shattered   as 

we  pass  within  the  veil  ? 


Shall  the  joyous  song  of '  Onward!'  at  once 

forever  cease, 
And   the   swelling   music   culminate    in 

monotone  of  peace  ? 

Shall  the  fuller  life  be  sundered  at  the  por- 
tal of  its  bliss, 

From  the  principle  of  growth  entwined 
with  every  nerve  of  this  ? 

Shall  the  holy  law  of  progress  be  hopeless- 
ly repealed, 

And  the  moment  of  releasing  see  our  sum 
of  glory  sealed  ? 

The  tender  touch  of  moonlight,  with  an 
orbit  quickly  run, 

The  lustre  of  the  planet,  circling  slowly 
round  the  sun, 

The  mighty  revolutions  of  its  million- 
heated  blaze, 

'  From  glory  unto  glory  '  lead  our  far-ex- 
panding gaze. 

Then  onward,  ever  onward,  through   the 

unexplored  abyss 
(Dark  barrier  between  the  suns   of  other 

worlds  and  this), 
Until  the  measure-unit  mocks   the   grasp 

of  human  thought. 
And  space  and  time  commingle  while  the 

clue  is  feebly  sought. 

Till,  in   that  wider   ocean,  deep   calleth 

unto  deep, 
Star-glories   with   attendant  worlds,  forth 

flashing  as  they  sweep 
Around  their  unseen  centre,  that  point  of 

mystic  power, 
In  unimagined   cycles,  where   an   age  is 

but  an  hour. 


328 


'  UNDER  HIS   SHADOW.' 


Then  onward  !  and  yet  onward  !  for  the 
dim  revealings  show 

That  systems  unto  systems  in  grand  suc- 
cession grow, 

That  what  we  deemed  a  volume  but  one 
golden  verse  may  be, 

One  rhythmic  cadence  in  the  flow  of  God's 
great  poetry. 

That  what  we  deemed  a  symphony  was 
one  all-thrilling  bar, 

Through  aisles  of  His  great  temple  re- 
sounding full  and  far  ; 

That  what  we  deemed  an  ocean  was  a 
shallow  by  the  shore  ! 

Then  1  onward  yet,  in  eagle  flight,  through 
the  Infinite  we  soar — 

'  From  glory  unto  glory/   till   the  spirit 

fails  ;  and  then 

Illimitable  vistas  still  opening  to  our  ken, 
Mysterious  immensities  of  order  and   of 

light 
Stretch  far  beyond  our  farthest  thought, 

as  thought  beyond  our  sight. 

But  the  starting-point  in  heaven  shall  be 

no  'glory  of  the  moon/ 
No  planet  gleam,  no  stellar  fire,  no  blaze 

of  tropic  noon  ; 
From    '  glory  that    excelleth '    all    that 

human  heart  hath  known, 
Our  'onward,  upward/  shall  begin  in  the 

presence  of  the  Throne. 

'From  glory  unto  glory'  of  loveliness  and 

light, 
Of  music  and  of  rapture,  of  power  and  of 

sight, 
'  From  glory  unto  glory '  of  knowledge 

and  of  love, 
Shall  be  the  joy  of  progress  awaiting  us 

above. 


'  From   glory  unto  glory '  that  ever  lies 

before, 
Still  wondering,  adoring,  rejoicing  more 

and  more, 
Still   following  where   He  leadeth,  from 

shining  field  to  field, 
Himself  the  goal  of  glory,   Revealer  and 

Revealed  ! 

'  From  glory  unto  glory, '  with  no  limit 
and  no  veil, 

With  wings  that  cannot  weary  and  hearts 
that  cannot  fail  ; 

Within,  without,  no  hindrance,  no  bar- 
rier as  we  soar  ; 

And  never  interruption  to  the  endless 
'  more  and  more  T 

For  infinite  outpourings  of  Jehovah's  love 

and  grace, 
And  infinite  unveilings  of  the  brightness 

of  His  face, 
And   infinite  unfoldings  of  the  splendor 

of  His  will, 
Meet  the  mightiest   expansions   of   the 

finite  spirit  still. 

O  Saviour,  hast  Thou  ransomed  us  from 

death's  unknown  abyss, 
And  purchased  with  Thy  precious  blood 

such  everlasting  bliss  ? 
Art  Thou  indeed  preparing  us,  with  love 

exceeding  great, 
And  preparing  all  this  glory  in  such   '  far 

exceeding  weight  ?' 

Then  let  our  hearts  be  surely  fixed  where 

truest  joys  are  found, 
And  let  our  burning,    loving  praise,    yet 

more  and  more  abound  ; 
And,  gazing  on  the    '  things   not   seen/ 

eternal  in  the  skies, 
'  From  glory  unto  glory, '  O  Saviour,    let 

us  rise  ! 


THE   SPLENDOR   OF  GOD'S   WILL.' 


329 


'THE    SPLENDOR    OF    GODS 
WILL: 

IN  the  freshness  of  the  spring-time, 

In  the  beauty  of  the  May, 
When  the  swift-winged  breezes  carolled, 

And  the  lambs  were  all  at  play, 
And  the  birds  were  blithe  and  busy, 

Upon  her  couch  she  lay. 

Like  a  lily  bruised  and  drooping, 

Before  its  early  flower 
Had  fully  opened  to  the  sun, 

Or  reached  a  noontide  hour  ; 
Broken  and  yet  more  fragrant 

For  the  heavy-beating  shower. 

It  was  not  the  first  spring-time 
Passed  without  one  glad  sight 

Of  a  starry  primrose  growing, 
Or  a  brooklet  swift  and  bright, 

And  without  one  bounding  footstep 
On  a  field  with  daisies  white. 

It  was  not  the  first  spring-time — 
And  it  might  not  be  the  last 

In  weariness  and  suffering 
Thus  to  be  slowly  passed ; 

For  when  the  young  feet  cannot  move 
Months  do  not  travel  fast. 

And  yet  she  saw  what  others 
Have  never  sought  or  seen, 

A  splendor  more  than  spring-light 
On  fair  trees  waving  green, 

And  more  than  summer  sunshine 
On  Ocean's  silver  sheen. 

Her  pencil,  tracing  feebly 
Words  that  shall  echo  still, 

Perchance  some  unknown  mission 
May  joyously  fulfil : — 

'  I  think  I  just  begin  to  see 
The  splendor  of  God's  will  !'. 


O  words  of  golden  music 

Caught  from  the  harps  onliigh, 

Which  find  a  glorious  anthem 
Where  we  have  found  a  sigh, 

And  peal  their  grandest  praises 
Just  where  ours  faint  and  die ! 

O  words  of  holy  radiance 

Shining  on  every  tear, 
Till  it  becomes  a  rainbow, 

Reflecting,  bright  and  clear, 
Our  Father's  love  and  glory, 

So  wonderful,  so  dear  ! 

O  words  of  sparkling  power, 

Of  insight  full  and  deep  ! 
Shall  they  not  enter  other  hearts 

In  a  grand  and  gladsome  sweep, 
And  lift  the  lives  to  songs  of  joy 

That  only  droop  and  weep  ? 

For  her,  God's  will  was  suffering, 

Just  waiting,  lying  still  ! 
Days  passing  on  in  weariness, 

In  shadows  deep  and  chill ; 
And  yet  she  had  begun  to  see 

The  Splendor  of  God's  Will ! 

And  oh,  it  is  a  splendor, 

A  glow  of  majesty, 
A  mystery  of  beauty, 

If  we  will  only  see  ; 
A  very  cloud  of  glory 

Enfolding  you  and  me. 

A  splendor  that  is  lighted 
At  one  transcendent  flame, 

The  wondrous  Love,  the  perfect  Love, 
Our  Father's  sweetest  name  ; 

Pbr  His  very  Name,  and  Essence, 
And  His  Will  are  all  the  same  ! 

A  splendor  that  is  shining 
Upon  His  children's  way  ; 


330 


'UNDER   HIS   SHADOW/ 


That  guides  the  willing  footsteps 
That  do  not  want  to  stray, 

And  that  leads  them  ever  onward 
Unto  the  perfect  day. 

A  splendor  that  illumines, 

Th'  abysses  of  the  Past 
And  marvels  of  the  Future, 

Sublime  and  bright  and  vast; 
While  o'er  our  tiny  Present 

A  flood  of  light  is  cast. 

No  twilight  falls  upon  it, 

No  shadow  dims  its  ray, 
No  darkness  overcomes  it, 

No  night  can  end  its  day  : 
It  hath  unending  triumph 

And  everlasting  sway. 

Blest  Will  of  God  !  most  glorious, 

The  very  fount  of  grace, 
Whence  all  the  goodness  floweth 

That  heart  can  ever  trace — 
Temple  whose  pinnacles  are  love, 

And  faithfulness  its  base. 

Blest  Will  of  God  !  whose  splendor 

Is  dawning  on  the  world, 
On  hearts  in  which  Christ's  banner 

Is  manfully  unfurled, 
On  hearts  of  childlike  meekness, 

With  dew  of  youth  impearled. 

O  Spirit  of  Jehovah, 

Reveal  this  glory  still  ! 
That  many  an  empty  chalice 

Sweet  thanks  and  praise  may  fill, 
When,  like  this  '  little  one/  they  see 

<  The  Splendor  of  God's  Will : ' 

That  faith  may  win  the  vision 
That  hers  hath  early  won, 


And  gaze  upon  the  splendor, 
And  own  the  cloudless  sun, 

And  join  the  seraph  song  of  love, 
And  sing— <  Thy  Will  be  done !' 


THE  TWO  PATHS. 

VIA  DOLOROSA  AND  VIA  GIOJOSA. 
(.Suggested  by  a  Picture.} 

MY  Master,  they  have  wronged  Thee  and 

Thy  love ! 

They  only  told  me  I  should  find  the  path 
A  Via  Dolorosa  all  the  way  ! 
Even  Thy  sweetest  singers  only  sang 
Of  pressing   onward   through   the  same 

sharp  thorns, 
With  bleeding  footsteps,  through  the  chill 

dark  mist, 
Following  and  struggling  till  they  reach 

the  light, 

The  rest,  the  sunshine  of  the  far  beyond. 
The  anthems  of  the  pilgrimage  were  set 
In  most  pathetic  minors,  exquisite, 
Yet    breathing    sadness    more    than  any 

praise. 

Thy  minstrels  let  the  fitful  breezes  make 
yEolian  moans  on  their  entrusted  harps, 
Until  the  listeners  thought  that  this  was 

all 
The  music  Thou  hadst  given.     And  so 

the  steps 
That  halted  where  the  two  ways  met  and 

crossed, 
The  broad  and  narrow,    turned  aside  in 

fear, 
Thinking   the   radiance    of    their  youth 

must  pass 

In  sombre  shadows  if  they  followed  Thee; 
Hearing  afar  such  echoes  of  one  strain, 
The  cross,  the  tribulation,  and  the  toil, 


THE  TWO   PATHS. 


331 


The  conflict,  and  the  clinging  in  the  dark. 
What  wonder  that  the  dancing  feet  are 

stayed 

From  entering  the  only  path  of  peace  ! 
Master,  forgive  them  !     Tune  their  harps 

anew, 
And  put  a  new  song  in  their  mouths  for 

Thee, 
And  make  Thy  chosen  people  joyful  in 

Thy  love. 
Lord  Jesus,  Thou  hast  trodden    once 

for  all 

The  Via  Dolorosa, — and  for  us  ! 
No  artist-power  or  minstrel-gift  may   tell 
The  cost  to  Thee  of  each  unfaltering  step, 
Where  love  that  passeth  knowledge   led 

Thee  on, 

Faithful  and  true  to  God,  and  true  to  us. 

And  now,  beloved  Lord,  Thou  callest  us 

To  follow  Thee,    and  we  will  take  Thy 

word 
About  the  path  which  Thou  hast  marked 

for  us. 
Narrow   indeed   it  is  !      Who   does   not 

choose 

The   narrow  track  upon  the   mountain- 
side, 
With  ever-widening  view,  and  freshening 

air, 
And   honeyed  heather,  rather   than   the 

road, 
With  smoothest  breadth  of  dust  and  loss 

of  view, 
Soiled  blossoms  not  worth  gathering,  and 

the  noise 

Of  wheels  instead  of  silence  of  the  hills, 
Or  music  of  the  waterfalls  ?     Or,  why 
Should  they  misrepresent  Thy  words,  and 

make 

*  Narrow '  synonymous  with  '  very  hard '  ? 
For  Thou,  Divinest  Wisdom,  Thou  hast 

said 


Thy  ways  are  ways  of  pleasantness,  and 

all 
Thy  paths  are  peace  ;  and  that  the  path 

of  him 

Who  wears  Thy  perfect  robe  of  righteous- 
ness, 
Is  as  the  light   that  shineth   more   and 

more 
Unto  the  perfect  day.     And  Thou   hast 

given 

An  olden  promise,  rarely  quoted  now,1 
Because  it  is  too  bright  for  our  weak  faith  : 
'If they  obey  and  serve  Him,  they  shall 

spend 

Days  in  prosperity,  and  they  shall  spend 
Their  years  in  pleasures.'  All  because 

Thy  days 

Were  full  of  sorrow,  and  Thy  lonely  years 
Were  passed  in  griefs  acquaintance — all 

for  us ! 

Master,  I  set  my  seal  that  Thou  art  true  ! 
Of  Thy  good  promise  not  one  thing  hath 

failed, 
And   I   would  send  a  ringing  challenge 

forth, 

To  all  who  know  Thy  name,  to  tell  it  out, 
Thy  faithfulness  to  every  written  word, 
Thy    loving-kindness    crowning  all   the 

days,  — 
To  say  and  sing  with  me  :  '  The  Lord  is 

good, 

His  mercy  is  forever,  and  His  truth 
Is  written  on  each  page  of  all  my  life  ! ' 
Yes  !  there  is  tribulation,  but  Thy  power 
Can  blend  it  with  rejoicing.     There  are 

thorns, 

But  they  have  kept  us  in  the  narrow  way, 
The  King's  highway  of  holiness  and  peace. 
And  there  is  chastening,  but  the  Father's 

love 

1  JOB  xxvi.  ii. 


332 


'  UNDER   HIS   SHADOW.' 


Flows  through  it ;  and  would  any  trusting 

heart 
Forego   the   chastening  and   forego    the 

love? 
And  every  step  leads  on  to   '  more  ana 

more, ' — 
From  strength  to  strength  Thy  pilgrims 

pass,  and  sing 
The  praise  of  Him  who  leads  them  on 

and  on, 
From  glory  unto  glory,  even  here  ! 


SUNDAY  NIGHT. 
REST  him,  O  Father  !     Thou  didst  send 

him  forth 

With  great  and  gracious  messages  of  love  ; 
But  Thy  ambassador  is  weary  now, 
Worn  with  the  weight  of  his  high  embassy. 
Now  care  for  him  as  Thou  hast  cared  for 

us 
In  sending  him  ;  and    cause  him  to  lie 

down 
In  Thy  fresh  pastures,  by  Thy  streams  of 

peace. 
Let  Thy  left  hand  be  now  beneath  his 

head, 

And  Thine  upholding  right  encircle  him. 
And,  underneath,  the  Everlasting  arms 
Be  felt  in  full  support.  So  let  Him  rest, 
Hushed  like  a  little  child,  without  one 

care, 
And  so  give  Thy  beloved  sleep  to-night. 

Rest  him,  dear  Master  !    He  hath  poured 

for  us 
The   wine   of  joy,    and  we    have    been 

refreshed. 
Now  fill  his  chalice,  give  him  sweet  new 

draughts 
Of  life  and  love,  with  Thine  own  hand ; 

be  Thou 


His  ministrant  to-night ;  draw  very  near 
In  all  Thy  tenderness  and  all  Thy  power. 
Oh  speak  to  him  !  Thou  knowest  how 

to  speak 

A  word  in  season  to  Thy  weary  ones, 
And   he   is   weary    now.      Thou   lovcst 

him — 

Let  Thy  disciple  lean  upon  Thy  breast, 
And  leaning,  gain  new  strength  to  '  rise 

and  shine.' 

Rest  him,  O  loving  Spirit !  Let  Thy  calm 
Fall  on  his  soul  to-night.  O  holy  Dove, 
Spread  Thy  bright  wing  above  him,  let 

him  rest 

Beneath  its  shadow  ;  let  him  know  afresh 
The  infinite  truth  and  might  of  Thy  dear 

name — 
'Our  Comforter  ! '  As  gentlest  touch  will 

stay 

The  strong  vibrations  of  a  jarring  chord, 
So  lay  Thy  hand  upon  his  heart,  and 

still 
Each   overstraining  throb,    each   pulsing 

pain. 
Then,  in  the  stillness,  breathe  upon  the 

strings, 

And  let  Thy  holy  music  overflow 
With  soothing  power  his  listening,  resting 

soul. 


PRECIOUS  THINGS. 
i. 

OH  what  shining  revelation  of  His  treas- 
ures God  hath  given  ! 

Precious  things  of  grace  and  glory,  prec- 
ious things  of  earth  and  heaven . 

Holy  Spirit,  now  unlock  them  with  Thy 
mighty  golden  key, 

Royal  jewels  of  the  kingdom  let  us  now 
adoring  see ! 


PRECIOUS   THINGS. 


333 


II. 

'Unto  you  therefore  which  believe,  He  is 
precious.' — i  PET.  ii.  7. 

Christ  is  precious,  oh  most  precious,  gift 
by  God  the  Father  sealed  ; 

Pearl  of  greatest  price  and  treasure,  hid- 
den, yet  to  us  revealed  ; 

His  own  people's  crown  of  glory,  and  re- 
splendent diadem  ; 

More  than  thousand  worlds,  and  dearer 
than  all  life  and  love  to  them. 

in. 

'Behold,  I  lay  in  Zion  a  chief  corner  stone, 
elect,  precious.' — I  PET.ii.  6. 

Marvellous  and  very  precious  is  the  Corner 
Stone  Elect  ; 

Though  rejected  by  the  builders,  chosen 
by  the  Architect  ; 

All-supporting,  all-uniting,  and  all-crown- 
ing, tried  and  s.ure  ; 

True  Foundation,  yet  true  Headstone  of 
His  temple  bright  and  pure. 

IV. 

'  Ye  know  that  ye  were  not  redeemed  with  cor- 
ruptible things,  .  .  .  but  with  the  precious 
blood  of  Christ,  as  of  a  lamb  without  blemish  and 
without  spot.' — i  PET.  i.  18,  19. 

Now,  in  reverent  love  and  wonder,  touch 

the  theme  of  deepest  laud, 
Precious  blood  of  Christ  that  bought  us 

and  hath  made  us  nigh  to  God  ! 
His  own  blood,  O  love  unfathomed !  shed 

for  those  who  loved  Him  not ; 
Mighty  fountain,  always  open,  cleansing 

us  from  every  spot, 
v. 

'  How  precious  also  are  Thy  thoughts  unto  me, 
O  God!  how  great  is  the  sum  of  them!' — Ps. 
cxxxix.  17. 

Oh,  how  wonderful  and  precious  are  Thy 
thoughts  to  us,  O  God  ! 

Outlined  in  Creation,  blazoned  on  Re- 
demption's banner  broad  ; 


Infinite  and  deep  and  dazzling  as  the  noon- 
tide heavens  above ; 

Yet  more  wonderful  to  usward  are  Thy 
thoughts  of  peace  and  love. 

VI. 

'  Whereby  are  given  unto  us  exceeding  great 
and  precious  promises,  that  by  these  ye  might 
be  partakers  of  the  divine  nature.' — 2  PET.  i.  4. 

Then,  exceeding  great  and  precious  are 

Thy  promises  Divine  ; 
Given  by  Christ,  and  by  the  Spirit  sealed 

with  sweetest  'All  are  thine  !' 
Precious  in  their  peace  and  power,  in  their 

sure  and  changeless  might, 
Strengthening,  comforting,  transforming ; 

suns  by  day  and  stars  by  night. 

VII. 

'To  them  that  have  obtained  like  precious 
faith  with  us  through  the  righteousness  of  God, 
and  our  Saviour  Jesus  Christ.' — 2  PET.  i.  i. 

Precious  faith  our  God  hath  given ;  rich 
in  faith  is  rich  indeed  ! 

Fire-tried  gold  from  His  own  treasure, 
fully  meeting  every  need  : 

Channel  of  His  grace  abounding  ;  bring- 
ing peace  and  joy  and  light  ; 

Purifying,  overcoming  ;  linking  weakness 
with  His  might. 

VIII. 

'The  precious  ointment  upon  the  head,  that 
ran  down  upon  the  beard,  even  Aaron's  beard  ; 
that  went  down  to  the  skirts  of  his  garments. ' — 
Ps.  cxxxiii.  2. 

Precious  ointment,   very  costly,  of  chief 

odors  pure  and  sweet, 
Holy  gift  for  royal  priesthood,  thus   for 

temple-service  meet  ; 
Such  the  Spirit's  precious  unction,  oil  of 

gladness  freely  shed, 
Sanctifying  and  abiding  on  the  consecrated 

head. 


334 


*  UNDER   HIS    SHADOW.' 


IX. 

'  How  excellent  (marg.  precious)  is  Thy  loving 
kindness,  O  God  !  therefore  the  children  of  men 
put  their  trust  under  the  shadow  of  Thy  wings.'— 
Ps.  xxxvi.  7  ;  ISA.  liv.  8,  10. 

Who  shall  paint  the  flash  of  splendor  from 
the  opened  casket  bright, 

When  His  precious  loving-kindness  beams 
upon  the  quickened  sight ! 

Priceless  jewel  ever  gleaming  with  imper- 
ishable ray, 

God  will  never  take  it  from  us,  though 
the  mountains  pass  away. 

x. 

'  It  cannot  be  valued  with  the  gold  of  Ophir, 
with  the  precious  onyx,  or  the  sapphire.  No 
mention  shall  be  made  of  coral  or  of  pearls  :  for 
the  price  of  wisdom  is  above  rubies.' — JOB 
xxviii.  16,  18. 

Far  more  precious  than  the  ruby,  or  the 
crystal's  rainbow  light, 

Valued  not  with  precious  onyx  or  with 
pearl  and  sapphire  bright, 

Freely  given  to  all  who  ask  it,  is  the  wis- 
dom from  above, 

Pure  and  peaceable  and  gentle,  full  of 
fruits  of  life  and  love. 

XI. 

*  Blessed  of  the  Lord  be  his  land  for  the  pre- 
cious things  of  heaven,  for  the  dew,  and  for  the 
deep  that  coucheth  beneath,  and  for  the  precious 
fruits  brought  forth  by  the  sun,  and  for  the  pre- 
cious things  put  forth  by  the  moon,  and  for  the 
chief  things  of  the  ancient  mountains,  and  for 
the  precious  things  of  the  lasting  hills,  and  /or 
the  precious  things  of  the  earth. '  — DEUT.  xxxiii. 
13-16. 

Nor  withhold  we  glad  thanksgiving  for 

His  mercies  ever  new, 
Precious  things  of  earth  and  heaven,  sun 

and  rain  and  quickening  dew  ; 
Precious  fruits  and  varied  crownin?  of  the 

year  His  goodness  fills, 
Chief  things  of  the  ancient   mountains, 

precious  things  of  lasting  hills. 


XII. 

'  If  thou  take  forth  the  precious  from  the  vile, 
thou  shall  be  as  My  mouth.' — JER.  xv.  19. 

Such  His  gifts  !  but  mark  we  duly  our  re- 
sponsibility 

Unto  Him  whose  name  is  Holy,  infinite 
in  purity ; 

Sin  and  self  no  longer  serving,  take  the 
precious  from  the  vile, 

So  His  power  shall  rest  upon  thee,  thou 
shalt  dwell  beneath  His  smile. 

XIII. 

'  The  precious  sons  of  Zion,  comparable  to  fine 
gold.' — LAM.  iv.  2. 

Sons   of  Zion,  ye   are   precious   in   your 

heavenly  Father's  sight, 
Ye  are  His  peculiar  treasure,  ye  His  jewels 

of  delight  ; 
Sought  and  chosen,  cleansed  and  polished, 

purchased  with  transcendent  cost, 
Kept  in  His  own  royal  casket,  never,  never 

to  be  lost. 

XIV. 

*  That  the  trial  of  your  faith,  being  much  more 
precious  than  of  gold  that  perisheth,  though  it  be 
tried  with  fire,  might  be  found  unto  praise  and 
honor  and  glory  at  the  appearing  of  Jesus 
Christ.' — i  PET.  i.  7. 

Precious,  more  than  gold  that  wasteth,  is 
the  trial  of  your  faith, 

Fires  of  anguish  or  temptation  cannot  dim 
it,  cannot  scathe  ! 

Your  Refiner  sitteth  watching  till  His  im- 
age shineth  clear, 

For  His  glory,  praise,  and  honor,  when 
the  Saviour  shall  appear. 

xv. 

Precious  in  the  sight  of  the  Lord  is  the  death 
of  His  saints.'  Ps.  cxvi.  15. 

Precious,    precious   to   Jehovah    is    His 

children's  holy  sleep  ; 
He  is  with  them  in   the   passing   through 
the  waters  cold  and  deep  ; 


'  AFTERWARDS.' 


335 


Everlasting  love  enfolds  them  softly,  safe- 
ly to  His  breast, 

Everlasting  love  receives  them  to  His 
glory  and  His  rest. 

XVI. 

'He  showed  me  that  great  city,  the  holy 
Jerusalem,  descending  out  of  heaven  from  God, 
having  the  glory  of  God  :  and  her  light  was  like 
unto  a  stone  most  precious  ;  even  like  a  jasper 
stone,  clear  as  crystal.' — REV.  xxi.  10,  II. 

Pause  not  here, — the  Holy  City,  glorious 

in  God's  light,  behold  ! 
Like  unto  a  stone  most  precious,  clear  as 

crystal,  pure  as  gold  ; 
Strong   foundations,  fair   with   sapphires, 

sardius,  and  chrysolite, 
Blent  with  amethyst  and  jacinth,  emerald 

and  topaz  bright. 

XVII. 

'  A  city  which  hath  foundations,  whose  build- 
er and  maker  is  God.' — HEB.  xi.  10. 

Glorious  dwelling  of  the  holy,  where  no 
grief  or  gloom  of  sin 

Through  the  pure  and  pearly  portals  ever- 
more shall  enter  in  : 

Christ  its  Light  and  God  its  Temple, 
Christ  its  song  of  endless  laud  ! 

Oh  what  precious  consummation  of  the 
precious  things  of  God  ! 


1  AFTERWARDS: 

(FROM  F.  R.  H.  TO  K.  T.) 

1  THERE  is  no  "  afterward  "  on   earth   for 
me  !' 

Beloved,  'tis  not  so  ! 

That  God's  own    afterwards '  are  pledged 
to  thee, 

Thy  life  shall  show. 


No    '  afterward '    indeed    of  great   things 
wrought, 

By  willing  hands  and  feet  ; 
No  sheaf  is   thine,    from  wider  harvests 

brought, 
With  singing  sweet. 

Fair   flowing  years  of  ease  and  laughing 

strength, 

With  cloudless  morning  skies, 
Sweet   life  renewed,    and  active  work  at 

length, 
His  love  denies. 

But  living  fruit  of  righteousness  to  Him 

His  chastening  shall  yield, 
And  constant  '  afterwards/  no  longer  dim, 

Shall  be  revealed. 

Is  it  no  '  afterward  '  that  in  thy  heart 

His  love  is  shed  abroad  ? 
And  that  His  Spirit  breathes,  while  called 
apart, 

The  peace  of  God? 

That/fly  in  tribulation  shall  spring  forth 
To  greet  His  visits  blessed, 

Whose  wisdom  wakes  the  south  wind  or 

the  north, 
As  He  sees  best  1 

Shall     not    longsu/ering    in    Thee    be 
wrought, 

To  mirror  back  His  own  ! 
His  gentleness  shall  mellow  every  thought, 

And  look,  and  tone. 

And  goodness  !    In  thyself  dwells  no  good 
thing, 

Yet  from  thy  glorious  Root 
An  'afterward  '  of  holiness  shall  spring — 

Most  precious  fruit ! 


UNDER   HIS   SHADOW.' 


The  trial  of  thy  faith  from  hour  to  hour 
Shall  yield  a  grand  increase  ; 

He  shall  fulfil  the  work  of  faith  with  power 
That  cannot  cease. 

And  all  around  shall  praise  Him  as  they 

see 

The  meekness  of  thy  Lord. 
Thus,  even  here  and  now,  how  blest  shall 

be 
Thy  sure  reward  I 

This  pleasant  fruit  it  shall  be  thine  to  lay 

At  thy  Beloved's  feet, 
The  ripening  clusters  growing  day  by  day 

More  full  and  sweet. 

If  at  His  gate  He  keeps  thee  waiting  now 
Through  many  a  suffering  year, 

Watch  for   His  daily    '  afterwards, '   and 

thou 
Shalt  find  them  here  : 

Till,  as  refined  gold,  in  thee  shall  shine 

His  image,  no  more  dim  ; 
Then   shall   the   endless    *  afterward '   be 
thine 

Of  rest  with  Him. 


VESSELS    OF  MERCY,     PRE- 
PARED UNTO  GLORY. 
ROM.  ix.  23. 

VESSELS  of  mercy  prepared  unto  glory  ! 
This  is  your  calling  and  this  is  your  joy  ! 
This,  for  the  new  year  unfolding  before  ye, 
Tells  out  the  terms  of  your  blessed  employ. 

Vessels,  it  may  be,  all  empty  and  broken, 
Marred  in  the  Hand  of  inscrutable  skill  ; 
(Love  can  accept  the  mysterious  token  !) 
Marred  but  to  make  them  more  beautiful 
still. 

JER.  xviii.  iv. 


Vessels,  it  may  be,  not  costly  or  golden  ; 
Vessels,  it  may  be,  of  quantity  small, 
Yet  by  the  Nail  in  the  Sure   Place   up- 

holden, 
Never  to  shiver  and  never  to  fall. 

ISA.  xxii.  23,  24. 

Vessels  to  honor,  made  sacred  and  holy, 
Meet  for  the  use  of  the  Master  we  love, 
Ready  fot  service  all  simple  and  lowly, 
Ready,  one  day,  for  the  temple  above. 

2  TIM.  ii.  21. 

Yes,  though  the  vessels   be   fragile  and 

earthen, 

God  hath  commanded  His  glory  to  shine  ; 
Treasure   resplendent   henceforth   is  our 

burthen, 

Excellent  power,  not  ours  but  Divine. 
2  COR.  iv.  5,  6. 

Chosen  in  Christ  ere  the  dawn  of  Creation, 
Chosen  for  Him,  to  be  filled   with   His 

grace, 

Chosen  to  carry  the  streams  of  salvation 
Into  each  thirsty  and  desolate  place. 

ACTS  ix.  15. 

Take  all  Thy  vessels,  O  glorious  Finer, 
Purge  all  the  dross,  that  each  chalice  may 

be 

Pure  in  Thy  pattern,  completer,  diviner, 
Filled  with  Thy  glory  and   shining   for 

Thee. 

PROV.  xxv.  4. 


SEULEMENT  POUR    TOT. 

[Written  for  and  sung  by  some  Swiss  peasants 
at  a  Sunday  afternoon  Bible  reading,  July  23rd, 
1876.] 

QUE  je  sois,  O  cher  Sauveur, 

Seulement  a  Toi  ! 
Soit  1 'amour  de  tout  mon  cceur 

Seulement  pour  Toi. 


A   SONG   IN   THE  NIGHT. 


337 


Je  reviens  a  mon  Pere 

Seulement  par  Toi, 
Ma  confiance  entiere 

Sera  en  Toi, 

Seulement  en  Toi. 

Le  p<§che  Tu  as  porte" 

Seul,  seul  pour  moi  ; 
Et  Ton  sang  Tu  as  verse" 

Seul,  seul  pour  moi. 
Toute  gloire,  toute  joie 

Sera  pour  Toi ; 
L'espeVance  et  la  foi 

Seront  en  Toi, 
Seluement  en  Toi. 

Aujourd'hui,  O  cher  Seigneur, 

Acceptes-moi ! 
Tu  es  seul  mon  grand  Sauveur, 

Tu  es  mon  Roi. 
Tous  mes  moments,  tous  mes  jours 

Seront  pour  Toi ! 
J6sus,  gardes-moi  toujours 

Seulement  pour  Toi, 
Seulement  pour  Toi. 

Que  je  chante  et  que  je  pleure 

Seulement  pour  Toi  ! 
Que  je  vive  et  que  je  meure 

Seulement  pour  Toi ! 
J6sus,  que  m'as  tant  aime* 

Mourant  pour  moi, 
Toute  mon  e*ternite 

Sera  pour  Toi, 

Seulement  pour  Toi. 


A  SONG  IN  THE  NIGHT. 

[Written  in  severe  pain,  Sunday  afternoon,  Oc- 
tober 8th,  1876,  at  the  Pension  Wengen,  Alps.] 

I  TAKE  this  pain,  Lord  Jesus, 

From  Thine  own  hand, 
The  strength  to  bear  it  bravely 

Thou  wilt  command. 


I  am  too  weak  for  effort, 

So  let  me  rest, 
In  hush  of  sweet  submission, 

On  Thine  own  breast. 

I  take  this  pain,  Lord  Jesus, 

As  proof  indeed 
That  Thou  art  watching  closely 

My  truest  need  : 

That  Thou,  my  Good  Physician, 

Art  watching  still  ; 
That  all  Thine  own  good  pleasure 

Thou  wilt  fulfil. 

I  take  this  pain,  Lord  Jesus, 
What  Thou  dost  choose 

The  soul  that  really  loves  Thee 
Will  not  refuse. 

It  is  not  for  the  first  time 

I  trust  to-day  ; 
For  Thee  my  heart  has  never 

A  trustless  '  Nay  !' 

I  take  this  pain,  Lord  Jesus, 

But  what  beside  ? 
'Tis  no  unmingled  portion 

Thou  dost  provide. 

In  every  hour  of  faintness 

My  cup  runs  o'er 
With  faithfulness  and  mercy, 

And  love's  sweet  store. 

I  take  this  pain,  Lord  Jesus, 

As  Thine  own  gift, 
And  true  though  tremulous  praises 

I  now  uplift. 

I  am  too  weak  to  sing  them, 

But  Thou  dost  hear 
The  whisper  from  the  pillow,— 

Thou  art  so  near  ! 


338 


UNDER    HIS   SHADOW.' 


Tis  Thy  dear  hand,  O  Saviour. 

That  presseth  sore, 
The  hand  that  bears  the  nail-prints 

For  evermore. 

And  now  beneath  its  shadow, 

Hidden  by  Thee, 
The  pressure  only  tells  me 

Thou  lovest  me  ! 


THE   VOICE  OF  MANY  WATERS. 

FAR  away  I  heard  it, 

Stealing  through  the  pines, 

Like  a  whisper  saintly, 

Falling  dimly,  faintly, 

Through  the  terraced  vines. 

Freshening  breezes  bore  it 

Down  the  mountain  slope  ; 
So  I  turned  and  listened, 
While  the  sunlight  glistened 
On  the  snowy  cope. 

v  Far  away  and  dreamy 

Was  the  Voice  1  heard  ; 
Yet  it  pierced  and  found  me, 
Through  the  voices  round  me — 

Song  without  a  word. 

"All  the  life  and  turmoil, 

All  the  busy  cheer 
Melted  in  the  flowing 
Of  that  murmur,  growing, 
Claiming  all  my  ear. 

What  the  mountain-message, 

I  could  never  tell  ; 
Such  Eolian  fluting 
Hath  no  language  suiting 

What  we  write  and  spell. 


Rather  did  it  enter 

Where  no  words  can  win, 
Touching  and  unsealing 
Springs  of  hidden  feeling, 

Slumbering  deep  within. 

Voice  of  many  waters 

Only  heard  afar  ! 
Hushing,  luring  slowly, 
With  an  influence  holy, 

Like  the  Orient  Star. 


Follow  where  it  leadeth, 

Till  we  stand  below, 
While  the  noble  thunder 
Wins  the  hush  of  wonder, 
Silent  in  its  glow. 

Light  and  sound  triumphant 

Fill  the  eye  and  ear  ; 
Every  pulse  is  beating 
Quick  unconscious  greeting 
To  the  vision  near. 

Rainbow-flames  are  wreathing 

In  the  dazzling  foam, 
Fancy  far  transcending, 
Power  and  beauty  blending 
In  their  radiant  home. 

All  the  dreamy  longing 

Passes  out  of  sight, 
In  a  swift  surrender 
To  ,the  joyous  splendor 

Of  this  song  of  might 

Self  is  lost  and  hidden 

As  it  peals  along  ; 
Fevered  introspection 
Paler-browed  reflection 

Vanish  in  the  song. 


THE   VOICE   OF   MANY   WATERS. 


339 


For  the  spirit,  lifted 

From  the  dulling  mists, 
Takes  a  stronger  moulding, 
As  the  sound  enfolding, 
Bears  it  where  it  lists. 

Voice  of  many  waters  ! 

Must  we  turn  away 
From  the  crystal  chorus 
Now  resounding  o'er  us 

Through  the  flashing  spray  1 

Far  away  we  hear  it, 
Floating  from  the  sky  ; 

Mystic  echo,  falling 

Through  the  stars,  and  calling 
From  the  thrones  on  high. 

There  are  voices  round  us, 
Busy,  quick,  and  loud  ; 
All  day  long  we  hear  them, 
We  are  still  so  near  them, 
Still  among  the  crowd. 

Yet  athwart  the  clamor 

Falls  it,  faint  and  sweet, 
Like  the  softest  harp-tone, 
Passing  every  sharp  tone 
Down  the  noisy  street 

To  the  soul-recesses 

Cleaving  then  its  way, 
Waking  hidden  yearning, 
Unwilled  impulse  turning 
To  the  Far  Away. 

Far  away — and  viewless, 
Yet  not  all  unknown — 

In  the  murmur  tracing 

Soft  notes  interlacing 
With  familiar  tone. 


So  we  start  and  listen  ! 

While  the  murmur  low, 
Falleth  ever  clearer, 
Swelleth  fuller,  nearer 

In  melodious  flow. 

Voice  of  many  waters 

From  the  height  above 
Hushing,  luring  slowly 
With  its  influence  holy, 
With  its  song  of  love  ! 


Following  where  it  leadeth, 

Pilgrim  feet  shall  stand, 
Where  the  holy  millions 
Throng  the  fair  pavilions 
In  the  Glorious  Land. 

Where  the  sevenfold  '  Worthy  !' 

Hails  the  King  of  kings, 
Blent  with  golden  clashing 
Of  the  crowns,  and  flashing 
Of  cherubic  wings ; 

Rolls  the  Amen  Chorus, 

Old,  yet  ever  new  ; 
Seal  of  blest  allegiance, 
Pledge  of  bright  obedience, 

Seal  that  God  is  true. 

Through  the  solemn  glory 

Alleluias  rise, 
Mightiest  exultation, 
Holiest  adoration, 

Infinite  surprise. 

There  immortal  powers 

Meet  immortal  song, 
Heavenly  image  bearing, 
Angel-essence  sharing, 

Excellent  and  strong. 


340 


UNDER   HIS   SHADOW.' 


Strong  to  bear  the  glory 
And  the  veil-less  sight, 
Strong  to  swell  the  thunders 
And  to  know  the  wonders 
Of  the  home  of  light. 

Voice  of  many  waters  ! 

Everlasting  laud ! 
Hark  it  rushes  nearer, 
Every  moment  clearer, 

From  the  Throne  of  God  ! 


THE  KEY  FOUND. 

THERE  is  a  strange  wild  wail  around,  a 

wail  of  wild  unrest, 
A  moaning  in  the  music,  with  echoes  un- 

confessed, 
And  a  mocking  twitter  here  and    there, 

with  small  notes  shrill  and  thin, 
And  deep,  low,  shuddering  groans   that 

rise  from  caves  of  gloom  within. 

And  still  the  weird  wail  crosses  the  har- 
monies of  God, 

And  still  the  wailers  wander  through  His 
fair  lands,  rich  and  broad  ; 

Grave  thought-explorers  swell  the  cry  of 
doubt  and  nameless  pain, 

And  careless  feet,  among  the  flowers,  trip 
to  the  dismal  strain. 

They  may  wander  as  they  will  in  the  hope- 
less search  for  truth, 

They  may  squander  in  the  quest  all  the 
freshness  of  their  youth, 

They  may  wrestle  with  the  nightmares  of 
sin's  unresting  sleep, 

They  may  cast  a  futile  plummet  in  the 
heart's  unfathomed  deep : 


But  they  wait  and  wail  and  wander  in  vain 
and  still  in  vain, 

Though  they  glory  in  the  dimness  and  are 
proud  of  very  pain  ; 

For  a  life  of  Titan  struggle  is  but  one  sub- 
lime mistake, 

While  the  spell-dream  is  upon  them,  and 
they  cannot,  will  not  wake. 

Awake,  O  thou  that  sleepest !  The  De- 
liverer is  near  ! 

Arise,  go  forth  to  meet  Him  !  Bow  down, 
for  He  is  here  ! 

Ye  shall  count  your  true  existence  from 
this  first,  blessed  tryst, 

For  He  waiteth  to  reveal  Himself,  the 
Very  God  in  Christ. 

For  the  soul  is  never  satisfied,  the  life  is 

incomplete, 
And  the  symphonies  of  sorrow  find  no 

cadence  calm  and  sweet, 
And  the  earth-lights  never  lead  us  beyond 

the  shadows  grim, 
And  the  lone  heart  never  resteth  till  it 

findeth  rest  in  Him. 

Do  ye  doubt  our  feeble  witness  ?    Though 

ye  scorn  us,  come  and  see  ! 
Come  and  hear  Him  for  yourselves,  and 

ye  shall  know  that  it  is  He  ! 
Ye  shall  find  in  Him  the  Centre,  the  Very 

Truth  and  Life, 
Resplendent    resolution    of   the    endless 

doubt  and  strife. 

Ye  shall  find  a  perfect  fitness  with  your 

highest,  deepest  thought, 
In  Him,   the  fair  Ideal,  that  so  long  ye 

vainly  sought, 
In  Him  the  grand  Reality  ye  never  found 

before, 
In  Him  the  Lord  that  ye  must  love,  the 

God  ye  must  adore. 


THE   KEY  FOUND. 


341 


Ye  shall  find  in  Him  the  filling  of  the 

'  aching  void '  within  ; 
In  Him  the  instant  antidote  for  anguish 

and  for  sin ; 
In    Him  the  conscious   meeting  of  the 

soul's  unuttered  ne.ed  ; 
In  Him  the  All  that  ye  have  sought,  the 

goal  of  life  indeed. 

As  the  light  is  to  the  eye,  with  its  sensitive 

array 
Of  delicate  adjustments  with  their  finely 

balanced  play, 
With  its  instinct  of  perception,   and  its 

craving  for  the  light, 
So  is  Jesus  to  the  spirit,  when  He  gives 

the  inward  sight. 

As  the  full  and  clear  translation  of  some 

characters  of  fate 
With   their  sibylline  enfoldings,    of  dim 

mysterious  weight, 
And   a   haunting  terror  lest  the  real  be 

darker  than  the  guessed  ! 
So  is  Jesus  to  the  questions  and  enigmas 

of  the  breast. 

As  the  key  is  to  the  lock,  when  it  enters 
quick  and  true, 

Fitting  all  the  complex  wards  that  are  hid- 
den from  the  view, 

Moving  all  the  secret  springs  that  no  other 
finds  or  moves, 

So  is  Jesus  to  the  soul,  when  His  saving 
power  He  proves. 

As  the  music  to  the  ear,  when  the  might- 
iest anthems  roll, 

With  its  corridors  conveying  every  echo 
to  the  soul, 

With  its  exquisite  discernment  of  vibration 
and  of  tone, — 

So  is  Jesus  to  the  heart  that  is  made  for 
Him  alone. 


No  need  to  prove  the  sunshine  when  the 

eye  receives  the  light ! 
When  the  cipher  is  deciphered,  we  know 

the  clue  is  right ; 
The  key  is  known  by  fitting  the  strange 

intricate  wards ; 
And  the  ears  must  own  the  music  when 

they  recognize  the  chords. 

No  need  to  prove  a  Saviour,  when  once 

the  heart  believes, 
And  the  light  of  God's  own  glory  in  Jesus 

Christ  receives  ! 
No  need  for  weary  puzzle,  with  heart- lore 

strange  and  dim, 
When   we   find   our  dark    enigmas    are 

simply  solved  in  Him  ! 

We  cannot  doubt  our  finding  the  very  Key 

indeed, 
When  Jesus  fills  up  every  void,  responds 

to  every  need, 
When  all  the  secrets  of  our  hearts  before 

Him  are  revealed, 
And  all  the  mystery  of  life,   alone  with 

Him,  unsealed. 

We  cannot  doubt,  when  once  the  ear  of 
listening  faith  has  heard, 

With  all-responsive  thrill  of  love,  the  mu- 
sic of  His  word  ! 

He  gives  the  witness  that  excels  all  argu- 
ment or  sign, — 

When  we  have  heard  it  for  ourselves  we 
know  it  is  Divine  ! 

And  then,  oh,  then  the  wail  is  stilled,  the 
wandering  is  o'er, 

The  rest  is  gained,  the  certainty  that  never 
wavers  more ; 

And  then  the  full,  unquivering  praise 
arises  glad  and  strong, 

And  life  becomes  the  prelude  of  the  ever- 
lasting song ! 

(HER  LAST  BIRTHDAY.) 


CLOSING   CHORDS. 


WHAT  THOU   WILT. 

Do  what  Thou  wilt !     Yes,  only  do 
What  seemeth  good  to  Thee  : 

Thou  art  so  loving,  wise,  and  true, 
It  must  be  best  for  me. 

Send  what  Thou  wilt ;  or  beating  shower, 

Soft  dew,  or  brilliant  sun  ; 
Alike  in  still  or  stormy  hour, 

My  Lord,  Thy  will  be  done. 

Teach  what  Thou  wilt;  and  make  me  learn 

Each  lesson  full  and  sweet, 
And  deeper  things  of  God  discern 

While  sitting  at  Thy  feet 

Say  what  Thou  wilt ;  and  let  each  word 

My  quick  obedience  win  ; 
Let  loyalty  and  love  be  stirred 

To  deeper  glow  within. 

Give  what  Thou  wilt ;  for  then  I  know 

I  shall  be  rich  indeed  ; 
My  King  rejoices  to  bestow 

Supply  for  every  need. 

Take  what  Thou  wilt,  beloved  Lord, 

For  I  have  all  in  Thee  ! 
My  own  exceeding  great  reward, 

Thou,  Thou  Thyself  shalt  be  I 


HOPE. 

WHAT  though  the  blossom  fall  and  die  ? 

The  flower  is  not  the  root ; 
The  sun  of  love  may  ripen  yet 

The  Master's  pleasant  fruit. 
342 


What  though  by  many  a  sinful  fall 
Thy  garments  are  denied  ? 

A  Saviour's  blood  can  cleanse  them 
Fear  not !  thou  art  His  child. 


all 


Arise  !  and,  leaning  on  His  strength, 
Thy  weakness  shall  be  strong ; 

And  He  will  teach  Thy  heart  at  length 
A  new  perpetual  song. 

Arise  !  to  follow  in  His  track 

Each  holy  footprint  clear, 
And  on  an  upward  course  look  back 

With  every  brightening  year. 

Arise  !  and  on  thy  future  way 

His  blessing  with  thee  be  ! 
His  presence  be  thy  staff  and  stay, 

Till  thou  His  glory  see. 


FEAR  NOT. 
ISAIAH  xliii.  1-7. 
LISTEN  !  for  the  Lord  hath  spoken  ! 

*  Fear  thou  not/  saith  He ; 
'  When  thou  passest  through  the  waters, 
I  will  be  with  thee. 

'  Fear  not !  for  I  have  redeemed  thee  ; 

All  My  sheep  I  know  ! 
When  thou  passest  through  the  rivers, 

They  shall  not  o'erflow. 

'Fear  not  !  by  thy  name  I  called  thee, — 
Mine  thy  heart  hath  learned  ; 

When  thou  walkest  through  the  fire, 
Thou  shalt  not  be  burned. 


BEHOLD    YOUR   KING  ! 


343 


Thou  art  Mine  !  oh,  therefore  fear  not ! 

Mine  for  ever  now  ! 
And  the  flame  shall  never  kindle 

On  thy  sealed  brow. 

'  Thou  art  precious,  therefore  fear  not, 

Precious  unto  Me  ! 
I  have  made  thee  for  My  glory, 

I  have  loved  thee/ 


THE    SCRIPTURE    CANNOT    BE 

BROKEN. 

i 

JOHN  x.  35. 

UPON  the  Word  I  rest, 

Each  pilgrim  day  ; 
This  golden  staff  is  best 

For  all  the  way. 

What  Jesus  Christ  hath  spoken, 
be  broken  ! 


Upon  the  Word  I  rest, 

So  strong,  so  sure, 
So  full  of  comfort  blest, 

So  sweet,  so  pure  ! 
The  charter  of  salvation, 

Faith's  broad  foundation. 

Upon  the  Word  I  stand  ! 

That  cannot  die  ! 
Christ  seals  it  in  my  hand, 

He  cannot  lie  ! 
The  word  that  faileth  never  ! 

Abiding  ever  ! 


Rejoic- 


Chorus. The  Master  hath  said  it  ! 

ing  in  This, 

We  ask  not  for  sign  or  for  token  ; 
His  word  is  enough  for  our  confi 

dent  bliss,  — 
'The  Scripture  cannot  be  broken  !' 


IHE  SUFFERED: 

1  HE  suffered  !'     Was  it,  Lordj-  indeed  for 
me, 

The  Just  One  for  the  unjust,   Thou  didst 

bear 

The  weight  of  sorrow  that  I  hardly  dare 
To  look  upon,  in  dark  Gethsemane  ? 
'  He  suffered  !'     Thou,  my  near  and  gra- 
cious Friend, 
And  yet  my  Lord,  my  God  !     Thou  didst 

not  shrink 

Forme  that  full  and  fearful  cup  to  drink, 
Because  Thou  lovedst  even  to  the  end  ! 
'  He  suffered  !'     Saviour,  was  Thy  love  so 

vast 

That  mysteries  of  unknown  agony, 
Even  unto  death,  its  only  gauge  could  be, 
Unmeasured  as  the  fiery  depths  it  passed  ? 
Lord,  by  the  sorrows  of  Gethsemane, 
Seal  Thou  my   quivering   Love   for  ever 
unto  Thee  ! 


BEHOLD  YOUR  KING  ! 

*  Behold,  and  see  if  there  be  any   sorrow   like 
unto  My  sorrow.' — LAM.  i.  12. 

BEHOLD  your  King  !     Though  the  moon- 
light steals 

Through  the  silvery  sprays  of  the  olive  tree, 
No  star-gemmed  sceptre  or  crown  it  reveals, 
In  the  solemn  shade  of  Gethsemane. 
Only  a  form  of  prostrate  grief, 
Fallen,  crushed,  like  a  broken  leaf ! 
Oh,  think  of  His  sorrow !  that  we   may 

know 
The  depth  of  love  in  the  depth  of  woe. 

Behold  your  King  !    Is  it  nothing  to  you, 
That  the  crimson  tokens  of  agony 
From  the  kingly  brow  must  fall  like  dew, 
Through    the    shuddering  shades   of 
Gethsemane  ? 


344 


CLOSING  CHORDS. 


Jesus  Himself,  the  Prince  of  Life, 
Bows  in  mysterious  mortal  strife  ; 
Oh,  think  of  His   sorrow  !    that  we  may 

know 
The  unknown  love  in  the  unknown  woe. 

Behold  your  King,  with  His  sorrow  crown- 
ed, 

Alone,  alone  in  the  valley  is  He  1 
The  shadows  of  death  are  gathering  round, 
And  the  Cross  must  follow  Gethsemane. 
Darker  and  darker  the  gloom  must  fall, 
Filled  is  the  Cup,  He  must  drink  it  all  ! 
Oh,  think  of  His  sorrow!    that  we  may 

know 
His  wondrous  love  in  His  wondrous  woe. 

NOTE. — After  F.  R.  H.'s  MS.  copy  of  '  Ador- 
ation,' written  Dec.  31,  1866,  she  adds  :— 'I  find 
this  is  exactly  my  hundredth  poem,  beginning 
from  my  number  2  MS.  book,  and  not  reckoning 
juvenile  pieces  before  I  left  school.  I  am  not 
sorry  that  "  Adoration  "  happens  to  close  the 
round  number  as  well  as  the  year  1866.  I  should 
like  the  same  subject,  only  better  treated,  to  close 
my  verse- writing  for  life.  One  would  wish  one's 
last  poem  to  be  some  expression  of  praise  to  the 
Crucified  One.' 

It  is  a  remarkable  coincidence  that  *  Behold 
your  King,'  and  '  He  suffered'  are  the  closing 
poems  in  F,  R.  H.'s  book,  written  in  pencil,  1879. 


AN  EASTER  PRAYER. 

OH  let  me  know 
The  power  of  Thy  resurrection  ; 

Oh  let  me  show 

Thy   risen  life  in  calm  and  clear  reflec- 
tion ; 

Oh  let  me  soar 

Where  Thou,  my  Saviour  Christ  art  gone 
before  ; 

In  mind  and  heart 

Let  me  dwell  always,  only,  where  Thou 
art. 


Oh  let  me  give 
Out  of  the  gifts  Thou  freely  givest ; 

Oh  let  me  live 
With  life  abundantly  because  Thou  livest ; 

Oh  make  me  shine 
In  darkest  places,  for  Thy  light  is  mine  ; 

Oh  let  me  be 
A  faithful  witness  for  Thy  truth  and  Thee. 

Oh  let  me  show 
The  strong  reality  of  gospel  story  ; 

Oh  let  me  go 

From  strength  to  strength,  from  glory  un- 
to glory  ; 

Oh  let  me  sing 
For  very  joy,  because  Thou  art  my  King ; 

O  let  me  praise 

Thy  love  and  faithfulness  through  all  my 
days. 


EASTER  DAWN. 

IT  is  too  calm  to  be  a  dream, 
Too  gravely  sweet,  too  full  of  power, 
Prayer  changed  to  praise  this  very  hour  ! 
Yes,    heard  and  answered  !  though  it 

seem 

Beyond  the  hope  of  yesterday, 
Beyond  the  faith  that  dared  to  pray, 
Yet  not  beyond  the  love  that  heard, 
And  not  beyond  the  faithful  word 
On    which   each   trembling   prayer  may 

rest, 
And  win  the  answer  truly  best. 

Yes,    heard  and  answered  !   sought  and 

found ! 

I  breathe  a  golden  atmosphere 
Of  solemn  joy,  and  seem  to  hear 
Within,  above,  and  all  around, 


MOST  BLESSED  FOR  EVER. 


345 


The  chime  of  deep  cathedral  bells, 
An  early  herald  peal  that  tells 
A  glorious  Easter  tide  begun  ; 
While  yet  are  sparkling  in  the  sun 
Large  raindrops  of  the  night  storm  passed, 
And  days  of  Lent  are  gone  at  last. 

Written  in  pencil  the  early  dawn  of  her  last 
Easter  Day,  April  1879. 


UNFINISHED  FRAGMENTS. 

THE  Master  will  guide  the  weary  feet, 

Choosing  for  each,  and  choosing  aright 
The  noontide  rest  in  the  summer  heat : 
For  some  the  glory  of  Alpine  height, 
For  some  the  breezes  fresh  and  free 
And  the  changeful  charm  of  wave  and  sea  ; 
For  some  the  hush  and  the  soothing  spells 
Of  harvest  fields  and  woodland  dells  ; 
For  some  it  may  be  the  quiet  gloom 
Of  the  suffering  couch  in  shaded  room. 
Master,  our  Master,  oh  let  it  be 
That  our  leisure  and  rest  be  still  with  Thee, 
With  Thee  and_/0r  Thee  each  sunny  hour 

In  pencil,  May  1879. 


1  ARISE,  depart  !  for  this  is  not  your  rest !' 
The  Voice  fell  strangely  on  the  sleep- 
ing fold, 

As  fell  the  starlight's  quivering  gold 
Upon  the  dusky  lake's  untroubled  breast, 
And  yet  the  Shepherd's  hand  had  led  them 

there, 

And   made  them  to  lie  down  amid   the 
pastures  fair. 

'Arise  ye,  and   depart!'    The   morning 

rays 
Lit  up  the  emerald  slope  and  crystal  pool, 

Sweet  sustenance  for  many  days, 
And  quiet  resting  places,  calm  and  cool. 


They  knew  not  why,  nor  whither,  yet  they 

went ! 
His  own  hand  put  them  forth,  and  so  they 

were  content. 

And  so  they  followed   Him,  they  could 

not  stay 
When  He  had  risen,  the  Shepherd  good 

and  fair 

In  pencil,  May  1879. 


MOST  BLESSED  FOR  EVER.  > 
Ps.  xxi.  6. 

THE  prayer  of  many  a  day  is  all  fulfilled, 

Only  by  full  fruition  stayed  and  stilled ; 

You  asked  for  blessing  as  your  Father 

willed, 

Now  He  hath  answered  :  '  Most  blessed 
for  ever !' 

Lost  is  the  daily  light  of  mutual  smile, 

You  therefore  sorrow  now  a  little  while  ; 
But  floating  down  life's  dimmed  and  lone- 
ly aisle 

Comes  the  clear  music  :   '  Most  blessed 
for  ever !' 

From  the  great  anthems  of  the  Crystal  Sea, 
Through  the  far  vistas  of  Eternity, 

Grand  echoes  of  the  word  peal  on  for  thee, 
Sweetest  and  fullest :  '  Most  blessed  for 
ever !' 

'  AND   THEY  SUNG  AS  IT  WERE    A    NEW   SONG 
BEFORE  THE  THRONE. ' ReV.   xiv.   3. 


1  Written  on  her  beloved  father's  death,  but 
now  chosen  as  the  closing  chord  of  F.  R.  H.'s 
songs  on  earth. 


INDEX  OF  FIRST  LINES. 


A  bright  and  blessed  Christmas  Day 167 

A  bright  and  joyous  frame  of  mind 127 

A  bright  New  Year,  and  a  sunny  track. . ..  174 

A  few   months  ago 103 

A  happy  Christmas  to  you  ! 165 

A  happy,  happy  Christmas  167 

A  happy,  happy  Christmas 168 

A  happy  New  Year !     Oh  such  may  it  be  !  171 

A   holy,  happy  birthday 178 

A  life  is  before  thee  which  cannot  decay . .  299 

*  A  merrie  Christmas '  to  you  ! 165 

A  night  of  danger  on  the  sea 268 

A  pearl-strewn  pathway  of  untold  gladness.  68 

A  shout  of  gladness  is  heard  afar 96 

A  smile,  a  smile,  my  darling  ! 253 

A  still  gray  haze  around  us 66 

A  term  for  autumn  leaves  when  all  their 

lovely  tints  are  fled   115 

A  whimsical  set  we  must  often  seem 114 

A  year  ago   the  gold  light 155 

Accepted,  Perfect,  and  Complete 233 

Advent  shadows  gather  deep 301 

Ah,   where  are  the  echoes  of  gladness. . . .  107 

Ah  !  the  weary  cares  and  fears  45 

Amid  the  broken  waters  of  our  ever-rest- 
less   thought   15 

Amy,  this  thy  promise  be.    254 

And  if  it  seemeth  good  to  Thee,  my  Fa- 
ther   298 

And  I  have  wounded  Thee — oh,  wounded 

Thee! 281 

An  April  burst  of  beauty 38 

An  army  of  Cyclops,  fair  reader,  are  we . .  1 14 
Another    called,    another    brought,    dear 

Master,  to  Thy  feet  ! 218 

Another  little   volume  filled  with   varied 

verse  and  song 274 

Another  year  for  Jesus  !  , 174 

Another  year  is  dawning  ! 170 


Another  year  of  patient  toil 173 

Are  you  shining  for  Jesus,  dear  one  ? 285 

*  Arise,  depart !  for  this  is  not  your  rest ! '.  345 

Arise,  for  He  is  risen  to-day 175 

Arise,   my  first!      In    peerless  radiance 

beaming, 125 

As  the  sounding  shell  conveys, 177 

'  As  thy  day  thy  strength  shall  be !' 51 

Autobiography  !     So  you  say 192 

Awake,  ye  sleepers  ! 125 

Begin  at  once !     In  the  pleasant  days. . . .  141 
Behold  your  King  !     Though  the  moon- 
light steals , 343 

Be  not  far  from  me,  we  pray 300 

Birthday   blessings,  fullest,  sweetest 177 

Blessings  on  thee,  darling  boy 179 

Bonnie  wee  Eric  !    I  have  sat  beside  the 

evening  fire .' 68 

Bright  be  thy  Christmas  tide  ! 166 

Buds  and  bells  !    Sweet  April  pleasures. . .  127 

By  Him  *  Life's  Morning  '  lovelit  be 136 

« Certainly  I  will  be  with  thee !'     Father  I 

have  found  it  true 235 

Christ  hath  called  thee,  Christ  hath  blest.  176 

Christ  is  come  to  be  my  Friend. 168 

Christ  is  come  to  be  thy  light 168 

Christmas  gifts  for  thee 166 

Church  of  God,  beloved  and  chosen, 

Church  of  Christ,  for  whom  He  died .  245 
Come  away,  come  away,  in  the  dawn  of 

May 150 

Come  down,  and  show  the  dwellers  far  be- 
low   182 

Cometh  in  lowliness 166 

Crown  the  year  with  Thy  goodness,  Lord  !  172 

Darling    boy 130 

Dear  Lord,  Thy  good  and  precious  Book 

seems  written  all  for  me 270 

Did  I  tell  you  how  we  went  to  tea 145 

347 


348 


INDEX   TO   FIRST   LINES. 


PAGE 

Did  you  hear  it  all  at  sunset  ? 258 

Distant  from  the  noisy  town 125 

Distrust  thyself,  but  trust  His  grace 293 

Do  the  angels  know  the  blessed  day 167 

Do  what  Thou  wilt !     Yes  only  do 342 

Down  the  ages  hoary 167 

Dying  ?    Evelyn,  darling  ! 187 

Early  chastening,  early  blessing 176 

Enter  my  first  with  a  studied  grace 127 

Ere  the  pathless  ocean  waters 93 

Eternity  with  Jesus 173 

Evening  now  is  closing   96 

Every  little  flower  that  grows 134 

Far  away  I  heard  it 338 

Far  from  home  alone  I  wander 155 

Far  off  upon  a  western  shore 136 

Far  on  the  mountain  height, . 175 

Father,    we    would   plead   Thy   promise, 

bending  at  Thy  glorious  throne 159 

Fear  not  the  westering  shadows 299 

Finished  at  last ! ' 56 

Five  minutes,  all  I  have  to  spare  153 

Fog-wreaths  of  doubt  in  blinding  eddies 

drifted 206 

For  Denmark,  ho  ! 108 

For  He  hath  given  us  a  changeless  writing  297 
For  nine- and -twenty  years  the  rainbow- 
pinioned  Spring 92 

For  the  weariest  day 174 

Francie  and  Willie,  welcome  to  you  ! . . . .  142 

Francie,  may  thy  childhood  be, 176 

From  childish  days  I  never  heard, 73 

'From  glory  unto  glory  !'     Be  this  our 

joyous  song 272 

*  From  glory  unto  glory  !'     Thank  God 

that  even  here 327 

From   his  ruby  pavilion  Phoebus  arose....  123 
From  the  watch  of  lonely  mountain  pray- 
er, in  gathering  storm  and  blast.. ....  217 

«  From  this  day  ' 172 

Give  me  a  song,  O  Lord 168 

God  Almighty  !  King  of  nations  !  earth 

Thy  footstool,  heaven  Thy  throne. . . .  204 

God  doth  not  bid  thee  wait 49 

God  of  heaven !  hear  our  singing 129 

'  God's  everlasting  love  !     What  wouldst 

thou   more  ?' 54 

God's  reiterated  «  ALL  !' 291 


Golden  harps  are  sounding 211 

'  Good-bye,  my  mother  ! ' 247 

'  Grace,  mercy,  peace  ' 176 

Great  is  the  mystery. . .    168 

Hail,  Christmas  morn  ! 169 

Happy,  because  He  loves  thee  ! 174 

Hast  thou  not  heard  within  some  sacred 

Pile 299 

Have  you  not  a  word  for  Jesus  ?  not  a 

word  to  say  for  Him  ? 213 

Heard  ye  the  long,  low  roar 126 

Heard  ye  the  sounds  of  joyous  glee 70 

Here  beginneth  —  chapter  the  first  of  a 

series 108 

He  answered  all  my  prayer  abundantly. ..  219 

He  hath  spoken  in  the  darkness 237 

He  stood  upon  the  fiery  deck 141 

*  He  suffered  !'     Was  it,  Lord,  indeed  for 

me 343 

He  that  overcometh  in  the  fight 157 

'  He  that  winneth  souls  is  wise 300 

He  who  hath  led  will  lead 277 

Hear  the  Father's  ancient  promise  ! 233 

*  Heather  Lintie,  tell  me,  pray,' 258 

His   love   is   the  key  and  His  glory   the 

measure 297 

Hitherto  the  Lord  hath  helped  us 300 

Holy  and  Infinite  !  Viewless,  Eternal 203 

Holy  brethren,  called  and  chosen  by  the 

sovereign  Voice  of  Might 245 

Holy  Father,  Thou  hast  spoken 287 

How  pleasant  'tis  at  eventide 87 

Hurrah  for  merry  England  ! 123 

I  am  a  native  of  many  a  land 115 

I  am  a  reward,  and  a  punishment  too 117 

I  am  alone,  dear  Master 216 

I  am  the  child  of  the  brightest  thing 121 

I  am  trusting  thee,  Lord  Jesus 284 

I  am  so  weak,  dear  Lord,  I  cannot  stand .  290 

'  I  am  with  thee  !'  He  hath  said  it 293 

I  bring  my  sins  to  Thee 207 

I  came  from  very  far  away  to  see 324 

I  could  not  do  without  Thee 208 

I  could  not  do  without  Him  ! 161 

I  don't  want  to  think  about  the  '  meaning  '  104 

I  dreamt  that  I  was  singing 259 

I  gave  My  life  for  thee 47 

I  have  a  smile  my  friends  to  greet 153 


INDEX   TO    FIRST   LINES. 


349 


If  you  get  into  me,  I  have  no  sort  of  doubt  1 16 

I  have  but  passed  the  first  short  stage 86 

I  have  filled  my  book 113 

I  have  no  birthday  gifts  to  bring 178 

I  have  no  hymn,  my  brother 180 

I  have  waited  for  thy  coming,  love  152 

I  know  the  crimson  Stain  of  sin 283 

I  love,  I  love  my  Master 291 

I  love  to  feel  that  I  am  taught 29 

I  may  be  tall,  and  slender,  and  round ....  119 

I  passed  along  the  meadows  fair 104 

I  played  with  the  whispering  rushes 37 

I  said  to  the  merry  birds  of  the  woods. ...  151 

I  take  this  pain,  Lord  Jesus 337 

'  I  thought  I  knew  it !'  she  said ill 

Increase  our  faith,  beloved  Lord 288 

In  desolate  wild  grandure  all  around 91 

In  fiery  caverns  was  my  glowing  birth. ...  117 

In  God's  great  field  of  labor 15 

In  Thee  I  trust,  on  Thee  I  rest 207 

In  the  evening  there  is  weeping 238 

In  the  freshness  of  the  spring-time 329 

In  the  likeness  of  His  death. 175 

In  the  morning  sow  thy  seed,  nor  stay  thy 

hand  at  evening  hour 226 

In  the  way  that  He  shall  choose 300 

Is  it  a  wintry  night  ?  166 

Is  the  work  difficult  ? 174 

Is  this  the  Peace  of  God,  this  strange, 

sweet  calm  ? 26 

Is  it  for  me,  dear  Saviour 208 

Israel  of  God,  awaken  !  Church  of  Christ, 

arise  and  shine  ! 245 

It  is  too  calm  to  be  a  dream 344 

It  is  the  quiet  evening  time,  the  sun  is  in 

the  west 79 

It  wandered  far,  that  Sunbeam  bright 99 

It  was  Easter  Monday  morning 221 

'  I  wait  for  thee  ! '  I  said  it  in  the  splendor  260 

I  wander  in  fancy  far  away 97 

I  welcome  not  thy  coming  now 185 

I've  found  at  last  the  hiding-place 66 

Jehovah's  Covenant  shall  endure , .  235 

Jesus,  beloved  Master,  art  Thou  near  ?. .  . .  209 

Jesus,  blessed  Saviour 159 

Jesus  came  ! — and  came  for  me  ! 167 

Jesus,  Master,  whom  I  serve  26 

Jesus  Master,  whose  I  am 26 


'  Jesus  only  !'  In  the  shadow  208 

Jesus,  Thy  life  is  mine  ! .  289 

Joined  to  Christ  in  mystic  union 246 

Just  to  let  thy  Father  do 276 

Just  when  Thou  wilt,  O  Master,  call 296 

King  Eternal  and  Immortal  ! 204 

Knowing  that  the  God  on  high 164 

Leaning  over  the  waterfal ! 112 

Leaning,  resting,  trusting,  loving 178 

Leave  behind  earth's  empty  pleasure 54 

Let  every  thought 29  7 

Let  us,  by  Thy  Spirit  stirred 30x3 

Light !  emblem  of  all  good  and  joy  ! 43 

Like  a  river  glorious 292 

Listen  !  for  the  Lord  hath  spoken  !.  342 

Little  Jessie,  darling  pet 130 

Little  one,  what  are  you  doing 58 

Lives  there  a  poet,  old  or  young 118 

Looking  unto  Jesus 284 

Lord,  I  am  in  Thy  house  of  prayer 157 

Lord,  in  mercy  pardon  me 157 

Lord,  is  it  still  the  right  way,  though  I 

cannot  see  Thy  face  52 

Lord  Jesus,  keep  our  dear  one 173 

Lord,  refresh  Thy  weary  servant. . . .. 181 

Lord,  speak  to  me,  that  I  may  speak 214 

Love  culminates  in  bliss  when  it  doth  reach  43 

Love  would  strew  upon  thy  way 177 

Made  for  Thyself,  O  God  ! 31 

Many  a  happy  year  be  thine 177 

Many  and  happy  thy  birthdays  be  !  177 

Many  a  voice  has  echoed  the  cry  for  *  a 

lull  in  life,' 225 

Mark  ye  not  the  sunbeams  glancing 35 

Master,  how  shall  I  bless  Thy  name 294 

Master,  speak  !  Thy  servant  heareth 55 

Master,  to  do  great  work  for  Thee,  my 

hand 182 

May  the  tale  the  years  are  telling 177 

Mist  and  cloud  and  darkness 169 

My  Alpine  staff  recalls  each  shining  height  183 

My  first  dwells  in  the  torrid  zone 125 

My  first  gleams  bright  'mid  azure  shields.  123 

My  first  had  spread  her  darksome  wing. .  126 

My  lodging  was  on  the  cold  rough  ground  145 

My  Lord,  dost  Thou  indeed  remember  me.  282 
My  Master,  they  have  wronged  Thee  and 

Thy  love  ! 330 


350 


INDEX   TO   FIRST   LINES. 


My  Own  !     You  won't  expect  to  hear  ...  152 

*  My  presence  shall  go  with  tbee,' 179 

My  second  could  never  produce  my  first. . .  123 

My  whole  is  but  a  species  of  my  third. ....  126 

My  whole,  the  poet  of  flood  and  fell 124 

New  mercies,  new  blessings,  new  light  on 

thy  way 170 

Night  is  heavy  on  the  valley  where  the 

river  mist  is  chill 105 

*  Nobody  knows  but  Jesus  !' 289 

No  more  the  flowers  of  spring  are  seen. .    .  69 
No,  not  a  star  !  that  is  a  name  too  beauti- 
ful and  bright 94 

'  Not  as  the  world  giveth, ' 174 

Not  long  ago  the  moon  was  dark 129 

Not  yet  thou  knowest  what  I  do 22 

'  Not  your  own  !'  but  His  ye  are 24 

Nothing  to  pay  !     Ah,  nothing  to  pay  ! . . .  164 

*  Now  I  see  !'  But  not  the  parting 54 

Now  let  us  sing  the  Angel's  Song 131 

Now,  Lord,  I  give  myself  to  Thee 299 

Now,  the  sowing  and  the  weeping 236 

Now  the  light  has  gone  away 128 

Now  Thy  loving  Spirit 174 

O  Christmas,  merry  Christmas  ! 257 

O  dark  was  the  day  when  I  left  her  alone.  151 
O  England,  thou  art  beautiful,  and  very 

dear  to  me 82 

O  glorious  God  and  King 205 

O  God,  with  grateful  hearts  we  come 158 

O  haste,  O  haste  to  the  fields  away  ! 99 

O  Heavenly  Father,  Thou  hast  told  164 

O  herald  whisper  falling 301 

O  Jesu,  Thou  didst  leave  Thy   glorious 

home 81 

O  Lord  most  high 147 

O  Master,  at  Thy  feet 78 

O  mountain  heights,  break  forth  and  sing.  299 

O  mystery  of  grace 298 

O  Name  of  beauty  and  of  calm  ! 169 

O  Name  of  gentlest  grace 169 

O  Saviour,  precious  Saviour 211 

O  Sea,  calm,  sleeping  Sea  !  awake,  and  tell  95 

O  Spirit  of  our  Triune  Lord 158 

O  sunbeam,  O  sunbeam  ! 259 

O  sweet  Sabbath  bells  ! . . : 127 

O  the  compensating  springs  !     O  the  bal- 
ance-wheels of  life 194 


O  the  wealth  of  pearly  blossom,  O  the 

woodland's  emerald  gleam  ! 102 

O  thou  chosen  Church  of  Jesus,  glorious, 

blessed,  and  secure 244 

O  Thou  who  gatherest  with  loving  arm. . .  135 

'  Occupy  till  I  return,' 300 

Of  a  useful  whole  I'm  the  most  useful  part.  115 

Of  what  are  you  thinking  now,  dear 154 

Oh,  children  of  England,  beyond  the  blue 

sea  138 

Oh,  Christmas  blessings  cannot  cease 167 

Oh,  for  a  burst  of  song 66 

Oh,  for  'a  desert  place,'  with  only  the 

Master's  smile  ! 77 

Oh !  for  a  fiery  scroll,  and  a  trumpet  of 

thunder  might 223 

Oh,  haughty  Thebes !  In  shadowy  days 

of  yore 122 

Oh,  let  me  know  175 

Oh,  let  me  know 344 

Oh,  let  thy  heart  make  melody. ...      ....  167 

Oh  may'st  thou  walk  !  from  hour  to  hour.  298 

Oh,  must  we  sing  our  Christmas  hymn. . . .  139 

Oh,  not  forsaken  !  God  gives  better  things  237 
Oh,  pleasant  have  the  hours  of  my  early 

childhood  been 85 

'  Oh,  that  I  loved  the  Father,' 39 

Oh,  the  hidden  leaves  of  Life  ! 17 

Oh,  the  treasures  of  the  Spring 152 

Oh,  Thou,  the  Sun  of  Righteousness 157 

Oh,  to  be  nearer  Thee,  my  Saviour 86 

Oh  !  to  raise  a  mighty  shout 35 

Oh,  what  everlasting  blessings  God  out- 

poureth  on  His  own  ! 232 

Oh,  what  shining  revelation  of  His  trea- 
sures God  hath  given  ! 332 

Once  on  a  time  I  a  visit  had  paid 142 

On  every  budding  leaf  and  flower 100 

On  Thee  the  Lord 299 

On  the  surface,  foam  and  roar, 192 

One  year  less 173 

Only  a  leaf,  yet  it  shall  bear 176 

Only  a  look  and  a  motion  that  nobody  saw 

or  heard 25 

Only  a  mortal's  powers 291 

Only  a  tiny  dropping 107 

Only  for  Jesus !  Lord,  keep  it  for  ever 300 

Only  just  a  line  to  say 178 


INDEX  TO   FIRST  LINES. 


351 


Only  one  dark  December  time 255 

Our  Father,  our  Father,  who  dwellest  in 

light 205 

Our  Saviour  and  our  King 246 

Our  Saviour  Christ  was  born 165 

Our  yet  unfinished  story 41 

Out  in  the  midsummer  sunshine 140 

Peace,  peace  ! . . . .         27 

'  People  do  not  understand  me,' 34 

Praising  together  for  all  the  way 173 

Precious,  precious  blood  of  Jesus 282 

Primeval  woods  my  parents'  birth I2O 

Que  je  sois,  O  cher  Sauveur 336 

Read  to  him,  Connie,  read  as  you  sit 254 

Reality,  reality 325 

Reason  unstrings  the  harp  to  see 75 

Rejoice  with  Jesus  Christ  to-day 160 

Rest,  and  be  silent !   For,  faithfully  listen- 
ing    297 

Rest  him,  O  Father!     Thou  didst  send 

him  forth 332 

Resting  on  the  faithfulness  of  Christ  our 

Lord 287 

Return 46 

Sadly  bend  the  flowers 130 

Say,  know  ye  not  the  pilgrim  band 121 

Set  apart  for  Jesus  ! 275 

Seventeen  hundred  and  sixty  yards 116 

'  Shall  rise  again  !' 175 

She  chose  His  service.     For  the  Lord  of 

Love 323 

She  is  at  rest 51 

She  stood  by  the  western  window 256 

Sing,  O  heavens  !  the  Lord  hath  done  it ! .  163 

Singing  for  Jesus,  our  Saviour  and  King. .  216 

Sit  down  beneath  His  shadow 234 

So  it  has  come  to  you,  dear. 105 

So  may  we  redeem  the  time 300 

*  Something  to  do,  mamma,  something  to 

do  ! '    132 

Soon  the  hour  of  dawn  shall  pass 124 

Sovereign  Lord  and  gracious  Master 247 

Standing  at  the  portal 170 

Standing  at  the  portal 233 

Stay  not  the  current  of  thy  tears,  for  they.  186 

Strong  and  loving  is  thy  Friend  ! 1 73 

Sunshine  and  silence  on  the  Col  de  Balm !  242 

Sweet  Astley  bells  !  your  distant  chime 89 


Sweet  blind  singer,  over  the  sea  , 266 

Sweet  flowers  of  Spring 7^. .~. . .  136 

Sweet  Rose  of  the  South !  contented  to 

rest 147 

Swell  the  notes  of  the  Christmas  Song  !. . .  168 

Sybil,  my  little  one,  come  away 139 

Take  it,  O  Father !  This  new  book  be 

Thine 191 

Take  my  life  and  let  it  be 275 

Tell  it  out  among  the  heathen  that  the 

Lord  is  King  ! 222 

'  Tempted  and  tried  !' 236 

Ten  years  ago  to-day  our  wedding  bells 

were  rung 149 

Terrible  waves  !  In  fierce,  unearthly  chorus  95 
Thanks  be  to  God  !  to  whom  earth  owes . .  22 
That  I'm  very  well-known  to  all  metaphy- 
sicians 'tis  true 1 18 

That  part  is  finished,  I  lay  down  my  pen..  302 

The  all- victorious  Roman 126 

The  blessing  of  the  trusting  one 1 78 

The  Christmas  bells  proclaim 169 

The  golden  gates  were  opening 224 

The  ills  we  see 196 

The  lessons  are  done  and  the  prizes  won. .  255 

The  Master  will  guide  the  weary  feet 345 

The  prayer  of  many  a  day  is  all  fulfilled . .  345 
The  stars  die  out,  and  the  moon  grows 

dim 260 

The  summer  sun  was  high  and  strong  . . .  239 

The  Sunbeams  came  to  my  window 253 

The  token  of  His  truth  and  care,  the  gift 

that  He  hath  blessed 298 

The  dawning  day  is  beaming 96 

The  forest  hath  its  voices 100 

The  future  !  who  may  lift  the  veil 174 

The  golden  glow  is  paling 128 

The  High  Priest  stands  before  the  Mercy 

Seat 183 

The  Lord  commanded,  *  Give  ye  them  to 

eat,' 183 

The  Lord  hath  done  great  things  for  thee  !  172 

The  Lord  is  gracious — full  of  grace 158 

The  Lord  thy  God  ! 173 

The  Love  of  God  the  Father 178 

The  meadows  rejoice  in  their  verdure  so 

bright ,  150 

The  murmur  of  a  waterfall  .  101 


352 


INDEX  TO   FIRST   LINES. 


The  royal  sun  with  his  orbed  flame 117 

The  Sabbath  morn  dawns  o'er  the  moun- 
tain brow 184 

The  seed  of  a  song  was  cast 112 

The  Severn  flow  is  soft  and  fair,  as  slowly.  148 

The  sun  hath  gilded  Judah's  hills 80 

The  sun  is  burning,  O  little  maiden 149 

The  threefold  blessing  Israel  heard 173 

The  veiling  shades  of  night  departed 122 

The  white  flowers,  freed 175 

The  wilderness  shall  rejoice. 166 

The  wondrous  love  and  light. ... 167 

The  world  is  full  of  crystals.  Swift,  or  slow  23 

Then  Time  will  seem  as  but  a  pebble  cast.  182 
There  are  those  who  deem  they  know  me 

well 57 

There  is  a  hush  in  earth  and  sky 28 

There  is  music  by  the  river 155 

*  There  is  no  rose  without  a  thorn  !' 44 

There  is  silence  high  in  the  midnight  sky.  168 
There  is  a  strange  wild  wail  around,  a 

wail  of  wild  unrest 340 

*  There  is  no  "afterward  "  on  earth  for  me!'  335 

There  is  no  holy  service 320 

There  is  One  so  fair,  so  bright 299 

There  is  sultry  gloom  on  the  mountain  brow  267 
They  said   their  texts,  and   their  hymns 

they  sang 30 

They  tell  me  that  my  little  tree 129 

Thine  eyes  shall  see !  Yes,  thine,  who, 

blind  erewhile  48 

This  New  Year  Thou  givest  me 174 

*  This  same  Jesus  !'     Oh  !  how  sweetly. ...  50 

Thou  art  coming,  O  my  Saviour  ! 212 

Thou  art  faithful,  praise  Thy  name 300 

« Thou  hast  forgiven— even  until  now  !' . . .  163 

Thou  layest  thy  hand  on  the  fluttering  heart  297 

Though  constantly  we're  in  the  mire 122 

Though  the   circling  flight  of  time  may 

find  us 177 

Through  the  yesterday  of  ages  296 

Thy  dear  one  is  with  Jesus  now  ! 189 

Thy  light  and  truth  forth-sending 298 

Thy  reign  is  righteousness 295 

Thy  Spirit's  fulness  on  him  rest 298 

Thy  thoughts,  O  God  !  O  theme  Divine  !.  314 

Tiny  feet  so  busy  in  a  tiny  patter  out  of  sight  252 
'Tis  fully  known  to  ONE,  by  us  yet  dimly 

seen „ 77 

To  Thee,  O  Comforter  Divine 234 

To  whom,  O  Saviour,  shall  we  go 46 

Toward  the  rising  of  the  sun. 173 

True-hearted,  whole-hearted,  faithful  and 

loyal 279 

Two  nations  mourn  !  The  same  great  grief 

is  known 190 

Unto  you  the  Child  is  born 166 

Upon  the  same  bright  morning  star 177 

*  Upward,  still  upward  '  thy  pathway  be. .  177 
Unfurl  the  Christian  Standard  !  lift  it  man- 
fully on  high 220 


Under  my  window  my  couch  is  set 267 

Unto  him  that  hath,  Thou  givest 286 

Upon  the  Word  I  rest 343 

Upon  Thy  word  I  rest 297 

Vessels  of  mercy,  prepared  unto  glory  !. . .  336 

Wanderer  from  thy  Father's  home 160 

Was  it '  only  for  one,'  dear,  'only  for  one,'  154 
We  have  heard  the  call  from  your  fair 

green  Isle 138 

We  nowadays  hear  of  all  sorts  of  progression  109 

We  pray  Thee  for  our  dear  one  ! , . .  178 

We  watched  the  gradual  rising  of  a  star. . .  302 

What  are  the  whispering  voices 156 

What  do  the  angels  sing  ? 167 

What  do  we  seek  for  him  to-day,  who, 

through  such  golden  gates 180 

What  hast  Thou  done  for  me,  O  mighty 

Friend 280 

What  know  we,  Holy  God,  of  Thee 203 

What  shall  Thine  '  afterward  '  be,  O  Lord  238 

What  though  the  blossom  fall  and  die  . . .  342 

What  is  the  first  and  simplest  praise 18 

What  shall  I  wish  thee  ? 171 

What  was  I  ?  Such  a  clever  friar 1 1 6 

What  was  the  first  angelic  word 168 

What  will  the  summer  bring  ? 37 

'  What  wouldst  thou  be  ?' 33 

'  What  wouldst  thou  be  ?'  31 

When  first  the  sun  dispels  the  cloudy  night  209 

When  home  I  came  after  many  a  day 152 

When  the  early  morn  awaketh  90 

When  the  first  bright  dawn  of  a  Sabbath-day  88 

When  the  loveliest  flowers  are  waking 87 

Where  are  the  countless  crystals 56 

Where  the  tall  pine-forest  made 124 

Where  will  ye  seek  me  ?  The  Andes  rise.  120 
Whom  hear  we  tell  of  all  the  joy  which 

loving  Faith  can  bring 39 

Who  is  on  the  Lord's  side  ? 278 

Who  saith  that  Poetry  is  not  in  thee 59 

Who  shall  tell  our  untold  need 49 

Who  will  take  care  of  me  ?  darling,  you 

say! 131 

Why  does  it  seem  familiar  ground  ?  76 

Why  do  we  cling  to  earth  ?  Its  sweetest 

pleasures 83 

Will  you  come  out  and  see 130 

Will  you  not  come  to  Him  for  Life  ? 161 

With  quivering  heart  and  trembling  will . .  53 

Wonderful !  Wonderful ! 168 

Wondrously 172 

Ye  have  seen  me  in  the  skies 121 

Ye  maidens  of  Old  England  ! 61 

Ye  who  hear  the  blessed  call. 215 

Yes  !  He  knows  the  way  is  dreary 29 

Yes,  I  will  leave  it  all  with  Thee . .  79 

Yes,  take  the  greenery  away 268 

'  Yet  speaketh  !'  though  the  voice  is  hushed 

that  filled 271 

'  You  bear  the  chalice. '  Is  it  so,  my  friend  ?  43 

'  You  never  write  of  heaven, ' 243 


14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

LOAN  DEPT. 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below,  or 

on  the  date  to  which  renewed. 
Renewed  books  are  subject  to  immediate  recall. 


MAY  3 


OCT  0  6  1991 


LD  21A-60m-3,'65 
(F2336slO)476B 


General  Library 

University  of  California 

Berkeley 


YC   16204 


M505445 


182% 


